Poems (Acton)/A Farewell to Bishop's Itchington
A FAREWELL TO BISHOPS ITCHINGTON.(Warwickshire.)
Farewell! sweet village, 'mid thy calm And quiet beauty, fare thee well!Oft will a kindly thought of thee Arise, within my heart to dwell!
Earth's gayer pictures ask not thou; The robe, each meadow boasts its own,Beseems it, in its nature, more Than the wrought purple of a throne.
Art thou not peaceful? 'Tis a name Unknown 'neath many a lordly dome;There are sad hearts in stately halls, When smiles light up the cottage home!
Sweet spot! Thou art like that fair flower, Whose beauties ever hidden lie;Couched in thy mossy bed, apart From a vain world's all-searching eye.
Long be thy calm unbroken; long Passed o'er unseen by lightest care;Long may they lift thy cotter's latch, And look upon contentment there.
Perchance the hand of time is raised To scatter bitter sorrows here;E'en now may be stretched forth to crush The vision-hopes, held all too dear.
But it hath not the power to quench A sweet remembrance of past hoursOf peace and calm, tho' it may change To withered weeds our path of flow'rs.
It hath no power to dim the thought, Oft-rising—of a household band,Whose kindly hearts have answered mine, Whose cheering grasp hath met my hand.
Oh! scene of peace and beauty rare! Meet home art thou for those whose pathLeads them from that vain world, whose cares Blight the few pleasures that it hath.
Peace be within thee! Peace around The hearts of truth thou shelt'rest now;And calm, like that which reigns o'er thee, Be traced upon each peasant-brow.
Farewell! Farewell! One who hath now But a bright memory left of thee,Would fain possess a magic pow'r To crown thee with prosperity.
To turn away the shaft of woe From worth's proud home—each honest heart;And bid the smile contentment brings To guileless lips, no more depart.R. A.