Page:In memoriam (IA inmemoriam00tennrich).pdf/146

 Another name was on the door: I linger'd; all within was noise Of songs, and clapping hands, and boys That crash'd the glass and beat the floor;

Where once we held debate, a band Of youthful friends, on mind and art, And labour, and the changing mart, And all the framework of the land;

When one would aim an arrow fair, But send it slackly from the string; And one would pierce an outer ring, And one an inner, here and there;

And last the master-bowman, he Would cleave the mark. A willing ear We lent him. Who, but hung to hear The rapt oration flowing free

From point to point with power and grace, And music in the bounds of law, To those conclusions when we saw The God within him light his face,