Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875.
Charles Lamb CCXXXIII. HesterW
Their place ye may not well supply,
Though ye among a thousand try
With vain endeavour.
A month or more hath she been dead,
Yet cannot I by force be led
To think upon the wormy bed
And her together.
A rising step, did indicate
Of pride and joy no common rate
That flush’d her spirit:
I know not by what name beside
I shall it call; if ’twas not pride,
It was a joy to that allied
She did inherit.
Which doth the human feeling cool;
But she was train’d in Nature’s school—
Nature had blest her.
A waking eye, a prying mind,
A heart that stirs, is hard to bind;
A hawk’s keen sight ye cannot blind—
Ye could not Hester.
To that unknown and silent shore,
Shall we not meet, as heretofore
Some summer morning—
When from thy cheerful eyes a ray
Hath struck a bliss upon the day,
A bliss that would not go away,
A sweet fore-warning?