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And there I sit
Reading old things,
Of knights and lorn damsels,
While the wind sings—
O, drearily sings!
I never look out
Nor attend to the blast;
For all to be seen
Is the leaves falling fast:
Falling, falling!
But close at the hearth,
Like a cricket, sit I,
Reading of summer
And chivalry—
Gallant chivalry!
Then with an old friend
I talk of our youth—
How 'twas gladsome, but often
Foolish, forsooth:
But gladsome, gladsome!
Or, to get merry,
We sing some old rhyme
That made the wood ring again
In summer time—
Sweet summer time!
Then go we smoking,
Silent and snug:
Naught passes between us,
Save a brown jug—
Sometimes!
