XIV.
Now Jane, in Arnold’s absence, strove and won
Th’ affection—nay, the love of every-one—
Of those whose happy lot it was to share
The joys domestic which abounded there,
For all (’twas often said) would run a mile
To catch from her sweet face but half-a-smile;
Though smiles were not at all times to be seen
(Alike with peasant, prince, or king, or queen),
For in her loneliness enough would rise