In every line a supple beauty -
The restless head a little bent -
Disgust of pleasure, scorn of duty,
The unseeing eyes of discontent.
Grandmither, think not I forget, when I come back to town,
An' wander the old ways again, an' tread them up and down.
I never smell the clover bloom, nor see the swallows pass,
Wi'out I mind how good ye were unto a little lass;
THROUGH halls of vanished pleasure,
And hold of vanished power,
And crypt of faith forgotten,
A came to Ludlow tower.
IN the tavern of my heart
Many a one has sat before,
Drunk red wine and sung a stave,
And, departing, come no more.
'Have you been with the King to Rome,
Brother, big brother?'
'I've been there and I've come home.