Night falls as heavily in such a clime
    As tired childhood after all day’s play,
    Waiting for mother who has passed away,
    And some old nurse, with iterated rhyme
    Of hymns or topics of the olden time,
    Lulls wonder with her tenderness to rest: 
    So, old St. Mary’s! at the close of day,
    Sing thou to me, a truant, on thy breast.