Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/841

 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!