III.—On the Borders of Cannock Chase Jean Ingelow Ingelow, Jean Illustrator Francis S. Walker Walker, Francis S. Metadata research and editing DVPP Project Team Fukushima Kailey University of Victoria Digital Victorian Periodical Poetry Project Victoria, BC, Canada

In the public domain

 One of four poems with the general title Four Sonnets by Jean Ingelow (417-18), the third of which is illustrated. (AC) Good Words 11 417–418 A cottager leaned whispering by her hives, text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 90%; letter-spacing: 0.05em; word-spacing: 0.1em; margin-bottom: 0.5rem; margin-left: 5.5em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; line-height: 1.2em; font-variant: small-caps; letter-spacing: 0.05em; text-transform: uppercase; display: none; margin-left: 1em; margin-left: 10.5em; display: inline; display: block; font-size: 1rem; width: 36em; CSS remediation, verified. Created pom_12518_incid_poem rendition to reset font-sizes. Added useful rendition elements in anticipation of CSS reworking. Reviewed figure and figDesc following scan replacements in this volume. Commented out caption. Marking specific renditions as incidental. Handle base cases of incidental titles. Extracted small-caps style into rendition element using XSLT. Re-organized change elements in descending date order. Assigned dominant rhyme-scheme value to poem div using automated XSLT. Set status to 'proofed'. Changed CSS to follow updated protocols and maintain consistency across periodical/year. Added sonnet line groups (based on KSHF's addition of the broken lines). Added illustration information: catRef, keywords, caption, and figDesc.
A woman sits on an object next to a pond. She is leaning over so that her arms rest on her lap. She is surrounded by wildlife and there is a beehive in front of her. There is a small house in the background. 3/4-page illustration contained within a single-ruled rectangular border.
III.—On the Borders of Cannock Chase. A cottager leaned whispering by her hives, Telling the bees some news, as they lit down, And entered one by one their waxen town, Larks passioning hung o’er their brooding wives, And all the sunny hills where heather thrives, Lay satisfied with peace. A stately crown Of trees enringed the upper headland brown, And reedy pools, wherein the moorhen dives, Glittered and-gleamed.A-resting-place for light, They that were bred here love it ; but they say, “ We shall-not have it long ; in three years’ time A hundred pits will cast out fires by night, Down yon still-glen their smoke shall trail its way, And the white ash lie thick in lieu of rime.”