From Clock-corner steps, as each quarter ding-dongs, Away the folk roam By the “Hart” and Grey’s Bridge into byways and “drongs,” Or across the ridged loam; The younger ones shrilling the lately heard songs, The old saying, “Would we were home.” The shy-seeming maiden so mute in the fair Now rattles and talks, And that one who looked the most swaggering there Grows sad as she walks, And she who seemed eaten by cankering care In statuesque sturdiness stalks. And midnight clears High Street of all but the ghosts Of its buried burghees, From the latest far back to those old Roman hosts Whose remains one yet sees, Who loved, laughed, and fought, hailed their friends, drank their toasts At their meeting-times here, just as these! 1902. NOTE.—“The Chimes” (line 6) will be listened for in vain here at midnight now, having been abolished some years ago. THE DARK-EYED GENTLEMAN I I PITCHED my day’s leazings in Crimmercrock Lane, To tie up my garter and jog on again, When a dear dark-eyed gentleman passed there and said, In a way that made all o’ me colour rose-red, “What do I see— O pretty knee!” And he came and he tied up my garter for me. II ’Twixt sunset and moonrise it was, I can mind: Ah, ’tis easy to lose what we nevermore find!— Of the dear stranger’s home, of his name, I knew nought, But I soon knew his nature and all that it brought. Then bitterly Sobbed I that he Should ever have tied up my garter for me! III Yet now I’ve beside me a fine lissom lad, And my slip’s nigh forgot, and my days are not sad; My own dearest joy is he, comrade, and friend, He it is who safe-guards me, on him I depend; No sorrow brings he, And thankful I be That his daddy once tied up my garter for me! NOTE.—“Leazings” (line 1).—Bundle of gleaned corn. TO CARREY CLAVEL YOU turn your back, you turn your back, And never your face to me, Alone you take your homeward track, And scorn my company. What will you do when Charley’s seen Dewbeating down this way? —You’ll turn your back as now, you mean? Nay, Carrey Clavel, nay! You’ll see none’s looking; put your lip Up like a tulip, so; And he will coll you, bend, and sip: Yes, Carrey, yes; I know! THE ORPHANED OLD MAID I WANTED to marry, but father said, “No— ’Tis weakness in women to give themselves so; If you care for your freedom you’ll listen to me, Make a spouse in your pocket, and let the men be.” I spake on’t again and again: father cried, “Why—if you go husbanding, where shall I bide? For never a home’s for me elsewhere than here!” And I yielded; for father had ever been dear.