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Updated: May 20, 2025
And Wordsworth also "on the dry smooth-shaven green" paced on solitary evenings "to the far-off curfew's sound," beneath those groves of forest-trees among which "Philomel still deigns a song" and the spirit of contemplation lingers still; whether the silent avenues stand in the summer twilight filled with fragrance of the lime, or the long rows of chestnut engirdle the autumn river-lawns with walls of golden glow, or the tall elms cluster in garden or Wilderness into towering citadels of green.
Hemans, who poured out her holy soul in words which will forever be associated with hunter's horn, and captive's chain, and bridal hour, and lute's throb, and curfew's knell at the dying day? and scores and hundreds of women, unknown on earth, who have given water to the thirsty, and bread to the hungry, and medicine to the sick, and smiles to the discouraged their footsteps heard along dark lane and in government hospital, and in almshouse corridor, and by prison gate?
"Are you going out to-night, miss?" asked the woman. Lydia roused herself from her unpleasant thoughts. "Yes. I'm making some drawings of the dresses in Curfew's new play. I'll be home somewhere around twelve." Mrs. Morgan was half-way across the room when she turned back. "One of these days you'll get out of all your troubles, miss, you see if you don't!
He, too, was feeling the change, for he was a very human dog, and missed the Flower Girls and the Precious Stones, and the dear, dear master and Mrs Constable, just as Hollyhock did. But what was the use of making a fuss? According to Curfew's creed, it was wrong to grumble. Hollyhock did not want him.
Thus said Olive when they had been established some time in their new abode, and sat together, one winter evening, listening to the sweet bells of Oldchurch one of the few English parishes where lingers "the curfew's solemn sound." "A pretty house, if any one came to see us in it, my dear; but nobody does. And then we miss the close carriage so much.
Dear country home, where every sound is ministry; the morning cock and cackling hen, the birds' hopeful morning song, the twittering swallow, noon's rest and healthy appetite, the lowing cattle, the birds' thankful evening note, the village bell old curfew's echo, the pattering on the pane, the wind in the treetops, the watchdog's distant bark for lullaby, and quiet restful sleep; his greatest sports those of the evening village-green the apple bee, the husking, and the weekly singing-school.
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