Part the Second. I. EMBOWERED amid the Surrey Hills The quiet village lay, Two rows of ancient cottages Beside the public way, A modest church, with ivied tower, And spire with mosses grey. II. Beneath the elm's o'erarching boughs The little children ran; The self-same shadows flecked the sward In days of good Queen Anne; And then, as now, the children sang Beneath its branches tall They grew, they loved, they sinned, they died The tree outlived them all. But still the human flow'rets grew, And still the children played, And ne'er the tree lacked youthful feet To frolic in its shade, The ploughboy's whistle in the spring, Or chant of happy maid. III. Oh, pleasant green of Micklethorpe! From deep Canadian wilderness That hears St. Lawrence roar, From ships in the Pacific seas, Or coast of Labrador, Comes back to thee the tender thought, With dear remembrance crowned; Thy wandering children love thee well, And all the landscape round, And dream of thee in lonely nights, And think thee holy ground. IV. And so thou art; and so shalt be ; Where'er thy loved ones roam, The vision of thine ancient tree Shall speak to them of home; The ancient tree, the lone churchyard, The monitory spire, And smoke upcurling through the wood, From distant cottage fire The scene of many a mother's kiss, Or blessing of a sire. V. 'Twas Sunday morn, and Parson Vale, Beloved of high and low, With smiles for all men's happiness, And heart for every woe, Walked meekly to the parish church, With hair as white as snow Walked meekly to the parish church, Amid his daughters three There were more angels at his side Faith, Hope, and heavenly Charity— Were present to his thought; He never scorned his fellow men, Or held the humblest nought. He warned the strong, he raised the weak, And, like his Master mild, He helped and comforted the poor, And loved each little child, And, 'mid the moil and dust of life, Went forward undefiled. |