Eleanor Fanny Cobby

It has fall’n! it has fall’n! from its place on high!

And our pride in it now is a pleasure gone by;

Not the light-hearted child or the silver-haired sire

Will ever gaze more on our time-honored spire.

We lov’d to behold it when morning was nigh,

Or with evening’s first star shining faint in the sky;

We lov’d to behold it when sunbeams were bright,

And to feel it was near in the dusk of the night.

O! how lovely looked City, and Minster, and Spire,

When the sun went down as in clouds of fire,

When a light played over it, golden and rare,

That we never again shall see glancing there!

Like a beacon it spoke to us sweetly of home

When distant and weary our footsteps might roam;

And ever arising majestic on high,

It pointed us on to our hopes in the sky.

We beheld it alike from the wood-covered steep,

And away far away, on the blue moaning deep;

It was clear to our hearts and beloved of our eyes,

Alas! that no more we shall see it arise.

We’ll miss it when Summer shines far thro’ the land,

And scatters her roses with bountiful hand;

We’ll miss it when ruthless the Winter comes forth,

Like a conqueror armed with the winds of the North.

We’ll miss it, our eyes will unconsciously turn

To that which of old they were wont to discern,

And gaze––but on space––on the sorrowful blank,

Whence the spire that they loved in its stateliness sank.

Still, the sunshine may play round the grey, ancient town,

And the turrets of Goodwood from haughtily down,

The bells of the minster still solemnly chime,

Still, the City rejoice in its festival time!

But something familiar hath passed from the spot,

And the loss of its presence will ne’er be forgot;

Not the light-hearted child or the silver-haired sire

Will ever gaze more on our time-honored Spire!

*from the West Sussex Gazette, 14 March 1861.