Now Jane, in Arnold’s absence, strove and won

Now Jane, in Arnold’s absence, strove and won Th’ affection—nay, the love of every-one— Of those whose happy lot it was to share The joys domestic which abounded there, For all (’twas often said) would run a mile To catch from her sweet face but half-a-smile; Though smiles were not at all times to be seen (Alike with peasant, prince, or king, or queen), For in her loneliness enough would rise To force a tear-drop from her sparkling eyes; At eventide her sorrow seemèd most, But in her God she never fail’d to trust: Yes, eventide’s the time when Jane would sigh, And sometimes—unavoidably—would cry, As then the thoughts of home would oft recur, For everything still there to her was dear,— Ah! dear—and natural it should be so,— Could she forget her birth-place? Oh! no, no: Yet something, ’mid her sorrow, whisp’ring, said— Be calm—be comforted, and not afraid!