Down from the ceiling, by the chimney's edge, 110 That [13] in our ancient uncouth country style With huge and black projection overbrowed [14] Large space beneath, as duly as the light Of day grew dim the Housewife hung a lamp; An aged utensil, which had performed 115 Service beyond all others of its kind. Early at evening did it burn--and late, Surviving comrade of uncounted hours, Which, going by from year to year, had found, And left the couple neither gay perhaps 120 Nor cheerful, yet with objects and with hopes, Living a life of eager industry. And now, when Luke had reached his [15] eighteenth year, There by the light of this old lamp they sate, Father and Son, while far [16] into the night 125 The Housewife plied her own peculiar work, Making the cottage through the silent hours Murmur as with the sound of summer flies. [B] [17] This [18] light was famous in its neighbourhood, And was a public symbol of the life 130 That [19] thrifty Pair had lived. For, as it chanced, Their cottage on a plot of rising ground Stood single, with large prospect, north and south, High into Easedale, up to Dunmail-Raise, And westward to the village near the lake; 135 And from this constant light, so regular And so far seen, the House itself, by all Who dwelt within the limits of the vale, Both old and young, was named THE EVENING STAR.