Apart from all the rest, which thou hast stood 
So long contemplating ? Methinks the yew 
Would blend more naturally with churchyard musings 
Than doth the kingly cedar.” 
“ True, most true: 
Yet in that trait of sylvan character 
(Which I would deem more than a traveller’s tale) 
Something there is that minded me (how apdy 
Thyself shalt judge when thou hast heard my story) 
Of one who occupies the nearest grave. 
Wilt hear the tale ? Come, sit we on this bank; 
The scene above, around us—these green mounds, 
Yon sacred pile, the calm which eve now sends 
Through earth and sky, will suit my theme, and aid. 
“ Didst mark that decent cottage by the green, 
Deck’d with such creeping plants as best become 
A rustic dwelling, woodbine, and brier-rose, 
And that pale clematis we wont to call 
The Traveller’s Joy? Well—some years since, 
A widow dwelt there with her only child. 
She came from distant parts, but why she chose 
This lonely nook none ever rightly knew ; 
Certain it is she was not hither drawn 
