Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 2.djvu/157

149 Long, long in darkness did she sit,

And her first words were, "Let there be

In Bolton, on the Field of Wharf,

A stately Priory!"

The stately Priory was reared;

And Wharf, as he moved along,

To Matins joined a mournful voice,

Nor failed at Even-song.

And the Lady prayed in heaviness

That looked not for relief;

But slowly did her succour come,

And a patience to her grief.

Oh! there is never sorrow of heart

That shall lack a timely end

If but to God we turn, and ask

Of Him to be our Friend!