Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. V. Browning to Rupert Brooke
Coventry Patmore (18231896)Extract from Tamerton Church-Tower
I
And scaled the easy steep;
And soon beheld the quiet flag
On Lanson’s solemn Keep.
And now, whenas the waking lights
Bespake the valley’d Town,
A child o’ertook me, on the heights,
In cap and russet gown.
It was an alms-taught scholar trim,
Who, on her happy way,
Sang to herself the morrow’s hymn;
For this was Saturday.
“Saint Stephen, stoned, nor grieved nor groan’d:
’Twas all for his good gain;
For Christ him blest, till he confess’d
A sweet content in pain.
“Then Christ His cross is no way loss,
But even a present boon:
Of His dear blood fair shines a flood
On heaven’s eternal noon.”
My sight, once more, was dim for her
Who slept beneath the sea,
As on I sped, without the spur,
By homestead, heath, and lea.
O’erhead the perfect moon kept pace,
In meek and brilliant power,
And lit, ere long, the eastern face
Of Tamerton Church-tower.