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And my poor children prattled at my side.
Methinks I see the old oak table spread,
The clean white trencher and the good brown bread,
The cheese my daily food which Mary made,
For Mary knew full well the housewife's trade:
The jug of cyder,—cyder I could make—
And then the Knives—I won 'em at the wake.
Another has them now! I toiling here
Look backward like a child and drop a tear.
Methinks I see the old oak table spread,
The clean white trencher and the good brown bread,
The cheese my daily food which Mary made,
For Mary knew full well the housewife's trade:
The jug of cyder,—cyder I could make—
And then the Knives—I won 'em at the wake.
Another has them now! I toiling here
Look backward like a child and drop a tear.
HUMPHREY:
I love a dismal story: tell me thine,
Meantime, good Will, I'll listen as I dine.
I too my friend can tell a piteous story,
When I turn'd hero how I purchas'd glory.
I love a dismal story: tell me thine,
Meantime, good Will, I'll listen as I dine.
I too my friend can tell a piteous story,
When I turn'd hero how I purchas'd glory.
WILLIAM:
But Humphrey, sure thou never canst have known
The comforts of a little home thine own:
A home so snug, so chearful too as mine,
'Twas always clean, and we could make it fine;
For there King Charles's golden rules were seen,
But Humphrey, sure thou never canst have known
The comforts of a little home thine own:
A home so snug, so chearful too as mine,
'Twas always clean, and we could make it fine;
For there King Charles's golden rules were seen,
