I thought they'd be strangers aroun' me,
But she's to be there!
Let me jump out o' waggon and go back and drown me
At Pummery or Ten-Hatches Weir.



THE FLIRT'S TRAGEDY
(17--)



Here alone by the logs in my chamber,
Deserted, decrepit -
Spent flames limning ghosts on the wainscot
Of friends I once knew -

My drama and hers begins weirdly
Its dumb re-enactment,
Each scene, sigh, and circumstance passing
In spectral review.

- Wealth was mine beyond wish when I met her -
The pride of the lowland -
Embowered in Tintinhull Valley
By laurel and yew;

And love lit my soul, notwithstanding
My features' ill favour,
Too obvious beside her perfections