Page:The Leadbeater Papers (1862) Vol 1.djvu/33
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1766.]
THE ANNALS OF BALITORE.
19
We come to Fuller's-court, the square
For widows fam'd and maidens fair.
Here my dame Fuller keeps her home,
And three fair daughters grace the dome;
Enter the portal when you will,
And all is neat and all is still.
There Julia's ever-open door,
Encompass'd by the smiling poor:
Or to the right direct thine eyes,—
The thread industrious Mary plies:
Though small her house, her heart is wide,
For Truth and Friendship there reside.
We pass the gate: how fair the sight!
The trees their bending heads unite;
In the blest cool we move along,
Regal'd with the wild warblers' song:
The village, through the arches green,
Is through a long perspective seen.
O'er the trim fence now cast thine eye,
The variegated landscape spy;
The sloping hill, upon whose side
The grove erects its sable pride.
Turn to the left; that structure tall
Encloses those within its wall
Who great by blood, but greater far
By manners and by virtues, are.
See in the grove that structure neat,
Here we for worship duly meet:
Oh, may we clothed in silence hear
The still small voice for ever near!
But, not to place and form confined,
The worship of the all-perfect Mind
Doth like the sun its beams impart,
And loves the temple of the heart.
For widows fam'd and maidens fair.
Here my dame Fuller keeps her home,
And three fair daughters grace the dome;
Enter the portal when you will,
And all is neat and all is still.
There Julia's ever-open door,
Encompass'd by the smiling poor:
Or to the right direct thine eyes,—
The thread industrious Mary plies:
Though small her house, her heart is wide,
For Truth and Friendship there reside.
We pass the gate: how fair the sight!
The trees their bending heads unite;
In the blest cool we move along,
Regal'd with the wild warblers' song:
The village, through the arches green,
Is through a long perspective seen.
O'er the trim fence now cast thine eye,
The variegated landscape spy;
The sloping hill, upon whose side
The grove erects its sable pride.
Turn to the left; that structure tall
Encloses those within its wall
Who great by blood, but greater far
By manners and by virtues, are.
See in the grove that structure neat,
Here we for worship duly meet:
Oh, may we clothed in silence hear
The still small voice for ever near!
But, not to place and form confined,
The worship of the all-perfect Mind
Doth like the sun its beams impart,
And loves the temple of the heart.