Behold the parent hen amid her brood,
  Though fledged and feathered, and well pleased to part
  And straggle from her presence, still a brood,
  And she herself from the maternal bond
  Still undischarged; yet doth she little more 250
  Than move with them in tenderness and love,
  A centre to the circle which they make;
  And now and then, alike from need of theirs
  And call of her own natural appetites,
  She scratches, ransacks up the earth for food, 255
  Which they partake at pleasure.  Early died
  My honoured Mother, she who was the heart
  And hinge of all our learnings and our loves:  [G]
  She left us destitute, and, as we might,
  Trooping together.  Little suits it me 260
  To break upon the sabbath of her rest
  With any thought that looks at others’ blame;
  Nor would I praise her but in perfect love. 
  Hence am I checked:  but let me boldly say,
  In gratitude, and for the sake of truth, 265
  Unheard by her, that she, not falsely taught,
  Fetching her goodness rather from times past,
  Than shaping novelties for times to come,
  Had no presumption, no such jealousy,
  Nor did by habit of her thoughts mistrust 270
  Our nature, but had virtual faith that He
  Who fills the mother’s breast with innocent milk,
  Doth also for our nobler part provide,
  Under His great correction and control,
  As innocent instincts, and as innocent food; 275
  Or draws for minds that are left free to trust
  In the simplicities of opening life
  Sweet honey out of spurned or dreaded weeds. 
  This was her creed, and therefore she was pure
  From anxious fear of error or mishap, 280
  And evil, overweeningly so called;
  Was not puffed up by false unnatural hopes,
  Nor selfish with unnecessary cares,
  Nor with impatience from the season asked
  More than its timely produce; rather loved 285
  The hours for what they are, than from regard
  Glanced on their promises in restless pride. 
  Such was she—­not from faculties more strong
  Than others have, but from the times, perhaps,
  And spot in which she lived, and through a grace 290
  Of modest meekness, simple-mindedness,
  A heart that found benignity and hope,
  Being itself benign. 
                                     My drift I fear
  Is scarcely obvious; but, that common sense
  May try this modern system by its fruits, 295
  Leave let me take to place before her sight
  A specimen pourtrayed with faithful hand. 
  Full early trained to worship seemliness,
  This model of a child is never known
  To mix in quarrels; that were far beneath