But Henry more than all was dear; To track the wandering mourning shade. 4. Along the churchyard path she went, And saw above the Yew The low discoloured firmament, But swift along the road she sped. And walked where blackest darkness led, The more to hide her face. 6. And now to Henry's home she came, An aged woman, dull and slow, Nor asked the comer's name to know, 8. Jane hurried in, and at the first, 9. She marked the woman's wrinkled cheek, And saw 'twas swollen with weeping, Before she heard her answering speak, He is alive, and sleeping. 10. "'Tis now the second day that he "I've loved him ever since a child, 12. Then Jane exclaimed,-" What noise is there? I hear a tapping faint and low." 13. And she was there when Henry said "I heard a voice that spoke below Or was my heart by dreams betrayed? It seemed the voice that best I know." 14. His words were weak, and drawn with pain, His face looked flushed with burning red; She would no more her love restrain, But swiftly knelt beside the bed. 15. Her arms around his neck she threw, She gave his lips a quivering kiss, And heart to heart tumultuous flew, For nought was left them now but this. 16 Few moments passed in hurried grief, And then her face away she drew, And gazing, sought to find relief In looks where misery met her view. 17. He strove to smile with happier eyes, But could not long the toil sustain ; From his deep glance the meaning flies, The lids drop down-he longs in vain. 18. On her young heart his withered hand She laid, and pressed it strongly there, As if her life she could command, And bid it pass to him from her. 19. He slept. The maiden whispered low, 20. The woman went, and Jane remained With all she e'er had loved the best, His hand upon her bosom strained, Her face by his, but not in rest. 21. In her large eyes the unthought-of tears 22. The lingering minutes, measured out 23. "Through chill and fire, and smoke and pain, It calmly shines with widening orb, "Dear Jane," he said, "my only And while to those great beams I |