Preparatory to her going to rest,
For then her orisons ascended high,
And she in peace could close her weary eye.
But when the time came on that Jane could trace
The weeks, the days, the hours, when the blest face
Of her dear father she again would see—
She pass’d her evenings far more pleasantly,
And chatted freely—talk’d about the flowers,
The lovely groves, the avenues, and bowers,
The lakes, and such-like things,—oh, yes! and then