TO MISS MITFORD: AUTHORESS OF‘ OUR VILLAGE’

The single eye, the daughter of the light;

Well pleased to recognise in lowliest shade

Some glimmer of its parent beam, and made

By daily draughts of brightness, inly bright.

The taste severe, yet graceful, trained aright

In classic depth and clearness, and repaid

By thanks and honour from the wise and staid —

By pleasant skill to blame, and yet delight,

And high communion with the eloquent throng

Of those who purified our speech and song —

All these are yours. The same examples lure,

You in each woodland, me on breezy moor —

With kindred aim the same sweet path along,

To knit in loving knowledge rich and poor.