POEMS,

WRITTEN BEFORE THE PUBLICATION OF

CLIFTON GROVE,

〃

POEMS.

CHILDHOOD:

A POEM.

This is one of Henry's earliest productions, and appears by the hand-writing to have been written when he was between fourteen and fifteen. The picture of the schoolmistress is from

nature.

PART I.

PICTUR'D in memory's mellowing glass, how sweet Our infant days, our infant joys, to greet;

To roam in fancy in each cherish'd scene,
The village church-yard and the village green,

The woodland walk remote, the greenwood glade,

The mossy-seat beneath the hawthorn's shade,
The white-wash'd cottage, where the woodbine grew,
And all the favourite haunts our childhood knew!
How sweet, while all the evil shuns the
To view the unclouded skies of former days!

Beloved age of innocence and smiles,

gaze,

When each wing'd hour some new delight beguiles,

5

10

When the gay heart to life's sweet day-spring true,
Still finds some insect pleasure to pursue.

Blest Childhood, Hail!-Thee simply will I sing,
And from myself the artless picture bring';
These long lost scenes to me the past restore,

15

Each humble friend, each pleasure, now no more,
And ev'ry stump familiar to my sight,

Recalls some fond idea of delight.

20

This shrubby knoll was once my favourite seat;
Here did I love at evening to retreat,

And muse alone, till in the vault of night,

Hesper aspiring, shew'd his golden light.

Here once again, remote from human noise,

25

I sit me down to think of former joys;

Pause on each scene, each treasured scene, once more,

And once again each infant walk explore.

While as each grove and lawn I recognize,

My melted soul suffuses in my eyes.

30

And oh, thou Power, whose myriad trains resort

To distant scenes, and picture them to thought;

Whose mirror held unto the mourner's eye,

Flings to his soul a borrow'd gleam of joy;

Blest Memory, guide with finger nicely true,

35

Back to my youth my retrospective view;

Recal with faithful vigour to my mind,

Each face familiar, each relation kind;

And all the finer traits of them afford,
Whose general outline in my heart is stor❜d.

40

In yonder cot, along whose mouldering walls,
In many a fold the mantling woodbine falls,
The village matron kept her little school,
Gentle of heart, yet knowing well to rule;
Staid was the dame, and modest was her mien,

Her garb was coarse, yet whole, and nicely clean:
Her neatly-border'd cap, as lily fair,

45

Beneath her chin was piun'd with decent care,
And pendant ruffles, of the whitest lawn,

Of ancient make, her elbows did adorn.

50

Faint with old age, and dim were grown her eyes,

A pair of spectacles their want supplies;

These does she guard secure, in leathern case,

From thoughtless wights, in some unweeted place.

Here first I enter'd, tho' with toil and pain,

55

The low vestibule of learning's fane:

Enter'd with pain, yet soon I found the way,

Tho' sometimes toilsome, many a sweet display.

Much did I grieve, on that ill-fated morn,

60

When I was first to school reluctant borne ;
Severe I thought the dame, tho' oft she try'd
To soothe my swelling spirits when I sigh'd;
And oft, when harshly she reprov'd, I wept,

To my lone corner broken-hearted crept,

And thought of tender home, where anger never kept. 65

But soon enur'd to alphabetic toils,

Alert I met the daine with jocund smiles;