LANCASTER.
H, pleasant on a winter night,
To see the fagot blaze,
While o’er white wall and sanded floor,
The cheerful firelight plays.
Rebecca sat beside the hearth,
The wheel was at her knee,
Round, round it went with ceaseless hum,
And cheerfully worked she.
For company she had old songs,
The simple and the true;
And as she sang, she felt her heart
Its gladsome youth renew.
At first she sang unceasingly,
And with a cheerful tone,
Then paused, to ask the cuckoo clock,
How much of night had flown.
The notes grew sorrowful, then ceased,
She let her wheel stand still,
And forth she looked, the quiet moon
Was bright above the hill.
She blessed the blue and tranquil sky,
And closed the cottage door;
Again her wheel turned busily,
Her song arose once more.
But broken now by start and pause,
And oft her wandering eye,
Turned to the clock, and anxiously
Watched each long hour pass by.
My mother she is late to-night,
God keep her on her way;
Again Rebecca turned to watch
The moors that round them lay.
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