| |
| IF Nature, for a favourite child, | |
| In thee hath tempered so her clay, | |
| That every hour thy heart runs wild, | |
| Yet never once doth go astray, | |
| |
| Read o’er these lines; and then review | 5 |
| This tablet, that thus humbly rears | |
| In such diversity of hue | |
| Its history of two hundred years. | |
| |
| —When through this little wreck of fame, | |
| Cipher and syllable! thine eye | 10 |
| Has travelled down to Matthew’s name, | |
| Pause with no common sympathy. | |
| |
| And, if a sleeping tear should wake, | |
| Then be it neither checked nor stayed: | |
| For Matthew a request I make | 15 |
| Which for himself he had not made. | |
| |
| Poor Matthew, all his frolics o’er, | |
| Is silent as a standing pool: | |
| Far from the chimney’s merry roar, | |
| And murmur of the village school. | 20 |
| |
| The sighs which Matthew heaved were sighs | |
| Of one tired out with fun and madness; | |
| The tears which came to Matthew’s eyes | |
| The tears of light, the dew of gladness. | |
| |
| Yet, sometimes, when the secret cup | 25 |
| Of still and serious thought went round, | |
| It seemed as if he drank it up— | |
| He felt with spirit so profound. | |
| |
| —Thou soul of God’s best earthly mould! | |
| Thou happy soul! and can it be | 30 |
| That these two words of glittering gold | |
| Are all that must remain of thee? | |
| |
