189
STRANGER.
Come—come! all is not wrong.
Those old dark windows—
OLD MAN.
They're demolish'd too—
As if he could not see thro' casement glass!
The very red-breasts that so regular
Came to my Lady for her morning crumbs,
Won't know the windows now!
STRANGER.
Nay they were high
And then so darken'd up with jessamine,
Harbouring the vermin;—that was a fine tree
However. Did it not grow in and line
The porch?
OLD MAN.
All over it: it did one good
To pass within ten yards when 'twas in blossom.
There was a sweet-briar too that grew beside.
My Lady loved at evening to sit there
Come—come! all is not wrong.
Those old dark windows—
OLD MAN.
They're demolish'd too—
As if he could not see thro' casement glass!
The very red-breasts that so regular
Came to my Lady for her morning crumbs,
Won't know the windows now!
STRANGER.
Nay they were high
And then so darken'd up with jessamine,
Harbouring the vermin;—that was a fine tree
However. Did it not grow in and line
The porch?
OLD MAN.
All over it: it did one good
To pass within ten yards when 'twas in blossom.
There was a sweet-briar too that grew beside.
My Lady loved at evening to sit there
