THE CHILDLESS FATHER
Written at Town-end, Grasmere. When I was a child at
Cockermouth, no funeral took place without a basin filled with
sprigs of boxwood being placed upon a table covered with a white
cloth in front of the house. The huntings on foot, in which the
old man is supposed to join as here described, were of common,
almost habitual, occurrence in our vales when I was a boy; and the
people took much delight in them. They are now less frequent.
"UP, Timothy, up with your staff and away!
Not a soul in the village this morning will stay;
The hare has just started from Hamilton's grounds,
And Skiddaw is glad with the cry of the hounds."
--Of coats and of jackets grey, scarlet, and green,
On the slopes of the pastures all colours were seen;
With their comely blue aprons, and caps white as snow,
The girls on the hills made a holiday show.
Fresh sprigs of green box-wood, not six months before,
Filled the funeral basin at Timothy's door;
A coffin through Timothy's threshold had past;
One Child did it bear, and that Child was his last.
Now fast up the dell came the noise and the fray,
The horse and the horn, and the hark! hark away!
Old Timothy took up his staff, and he shut
With a leisurely motion the door of his hut.
Perhaps to himself at that moment he said;
"The key I must take, for my Ellen is dead."
But of this in my ears not a word did he speak;
And he went to the chase with a tear on his cheek.
10 In several parts of the North of England, when a funeral takes
place, a basin full of sprigs of box-wood is placed at the door of
the house from which the coffin is taken up, and each person who
attends the funeral ordinarily takes a sprig of this box-wood, and
throws it into the grave of the deceased.