Classic Poem

There stood poor Jenny, wat'ry-eyed,
In sorrow on the hillock's side,
In mourning for her cousin dead;
With dark locks by her comely head
And roundly-bending neck, left bare
Above her frock, and lily fair.
For Buckley bells had brought her tears,
Then ringing in her wax-white ears,
Their far-off peal, ding dong, ding dong .
Her shortest days will now be long,
For he she lov'd has done her wrong.
Poor Jane of Buckley-hill.

Still-headed there she set her sight
Upon the beechen grove's dim light,
While peeling with her hand, thought-free,
The crackling bark from some dead tree;
Till when she heard, in louder swells,
The far-off peal of Buckley bells;
And then upon her neck of snow
Her dark-lock'd head with grief hung low,
While they rang on, ding dong, ding dong .
Her shortest days will now be long,
For he she lov'd has done her wrong.
Poor Jane of Buckley-hill.

For she had walk'd with him, poor maid,
Word-trusting down that grove's dim shade,
And lov'd him, since she thought him true,
As God had made her heart to do;
And when the bells were flinging wide
The loud-struck peal of some young bride,
Had fancied that she saw the gay
Church-train of her bright wedding-day,
And thought those bells, ding dong, ding dong ,
Might sound for her before 'twas long;
Not thinking he she lov'd would wrong
Poor Jane of Buckley-hill.

But Robert now has left his old
True-love to wed a wife with gold;
And she, sharp-boned with freckled skin,
And wambling gait, and silly grin,
Has drawn him from his Jenny's face
Of lovely looks, and form of grace,
And soul-bewitching tongue that stirr'd
Our heart's blood with its slightest word.
But he will rue, before 'tis long,
This day's gay peal, ding dong, ding dong .
For his cold heart has done a wrong
To Jane of Buckley-hill.

O grief-bow'd Jenny, wat'ry-eyed
To find thyself thus cast aside,
With no bright day now coming on
To set thy maiden thought upon;
I would thy love could thus have hung
Its hope on me when I was young,
That I might once with joy and pride
Have made thee my true-hearted bride,
In thy own Buckley church, among
Thy friends while bells rang out ding dong .
For I would ne'er have done thee wrong
Young Jane of Buckley-hill.

For thy true love's a thousand fold
More joy-affording than the gold
That with a cold heart thus outweigh'd
Thy loveliness, thou meek-ey'd maid.
But let them seek their gold and miss
In pride the lowly-hearted's bliss;
For God that sees thee from above
Will bring thee yet a truer love,
And wedding peal, ding dong, ding dong .
But happiness ne'er lasted long
With him that did a maiden wrong,
Poor Jane of Buckley-hill.