Robert Millhouse

Richard Howitt, "Stanzas" Howitt, Antediluvean Sketches (1830) 92-93.

My thought is of a solitary place,
Where twilight dwells, where sunbeams rarely fall;
And there a wild rose hangs in pensive grace,
Reflected in a fountain clear and small;
Above them rise dark shadowy trees and tall,
Whilst round them grow rank night-shades in the gloom,
Which seem with noxious influence to pall
The fountain's light, and taint the flower's perfume,
As fainly they would mar what they might not out-bloom.

These mind me, Millhouse! of thy spirit's light,
That twilight makes in life so dark as thine!
And though I do not fear the rose may blight,
Or that the fountain's flow may soon decline;
Hope is there none, the bough which frown malign,
High over-head should let in heaven's sweet face;
Yet shall not these their life unknown resign,
For nature's votaries, wandering in each place,
Shall find their secret shade, and marvel at their grace.