many months they
continued to prosper in their new place of abode; but one night by an
unusually great flood they were swept out of the pool and perished, to
our great regret.

463. *_Liberty_ (_Sequel to the above_). [III.]

The connection of this with the preceding poem is sufficiently obvious.

464. _Liberty_. [III.]

'Life's book for thee may be unclosed, till age
Shall with a thankful tear bedrop its latest page.'

There is now, alas! no possibility of the anticipation, with which the
above Epistle concludes, being realised: nor were the verses ever seen
by the Individual for whom they were intended. She accompanied her
husband, the Rev. Wm. Fletcher, to India, and died of cholera, at the
age of thirty-two or thirty-three years, on her way from Shalapore to
Bombay, deeply lamented by all who knew her.

Her enthusiasm was ardent, her piety steadfast; and her great talents
would have enabled her to be eminently useful in the difficult path of
life to which she had been called. The opinion she entertained of her
own performances, given to the world under her maiden name, Jewsbury,
was modest and humble, and, indeed, far below their merits; as is often
the case with those who are making trial of their powers, with a hope to
discover what they are best fitted for. In one quality, viz., quickness
in the motions of her mind, she had, within the range of the Author's
acquaintance, no equal.

465. _Poor Robin_. [IV.]

The small wild Geranium known by that name.

466. *_Ibid._

I often ask myself what will become of Rydal Mount after our day. Will
the old walls and steps remain in front of the house and about the
grounds, or will they be swept away with all the beautiful mosses and
ferns and wild geraniums and other flowers which their rude construction
suffered and encouraged to grow among them? This little wild flower,
'Poor Robin,' is here constantly courting my attention and exciting what
may be called a domestic interest with the varying aspects of its stalks
and leaves and flowers. Strangely do the tastes of men differ, according
to their employment and habits of life. 'What a nice well would that
be,' said a labouring man to me one day, 'if all that rubbish was
cleared off.' The 'rubbish' was some of the most beautiful mosses and
lichens and ferns and other wild growths, as could possibly be seen.
Defend us from the tyranny of trimness and neatness, showing itself in
this way! Chatterton s