And every nook and hole I know,

Which any time you please I'll show:

My house you yonder spy".

I, thanking, praised the old man's skill,

Though, as I viewed him nearer still,

I deemed him younger far

Than I at first beholding thought;

'Twas care, not age, had deeply wrought

The wrinkle-furrowed scar.

But though erect as poplar straight,

He bent not 'neath the crushing weight

Of Time's remorseless might.

Yet few and scanty were his locks,

Which were than Shetland's rill-bathed flocks

Longer and purer white.

A sudden int'rest in mine eyes,

Which unaccounted will arise

Ofttimes within the brain,

I felt tow'rds him, and longed to know

What circumstance had made him so—

 Prev. P 11/241 next