THE DEPARTURE OF MISS HANNAH MORE, FROM BARLEY WOOD, APRIL 18, 1828, AT THE AGE OF EIGHTY-THREE.
It was a lovely scene,
That cottage 'mid the trees,
And peerless England's shaven green,
Peep'd, their interstices between,
While in each sweet recess, and grotto wild,
Nature conversed with Art, or on her labors smil'd.
It seem'd a parting hour,
And she whose hand had made
That spot so beautiful with woven shade
And aromatic shrub and flower,
Turns her from those haunts away,
Tho' spring relumes each charm and fondly woos her stay.
Yon mansion teems with legends for the heart:
There her lov'd sisters circled round her side,
To share in all her toils a part,
There too, with gentle sigh
Each laid her down to die:
Yet still, methinks, their beckoning phantoms glide,
Twining with tenderest ties
Of hoarded memories,
Green bower and quiet walk and vine-wreath'd spot:
Hark! where the cypress waves
Above their peaceful graves,
Seems not some echo on the gale to rise?
"Oh, sister, leave us not!"
