Down from the minster tower to-day
Fall the soft chimes of yore
Amidst the chattering jackdaws' play:
_And we return no more_.
But underneath the streets are still;
Noon, and the market's o'er!
Back go the goodwives o'er the hill;
_For we return no more_.
What merchant to our gates shall come?
What wise man bring us lore?
What abbot ride away to Rome,
_Now we return no more?_
What mayor shall rule the hall we built?
Whose scarlet sweep the floor?
What judge shall doom the robber's guilt,
_Now we return no more?_
New houses in the street shall rise
Where builded we before,
Of other stone wrought otherwise;
_For we return no more_.
And crops shall cover field and hill
Unlike what once they bore,
And all be done without our will,
_Now we return no more_.
Look up! the arrows streak the sky,
The horns of battle roar;
The long spears lower and draw nigh,
_And we return no more_.
Remember how beside the wain,
We spoke the word of war,