Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/228

 And link'd again. I saw within my head A gray and gap-tooth'd man as lean as death, Who slowly rode across a wither'd heath, And lighted at a ruin'd inn, and said:

"Wrinkled ostler, grim and thin! Here is custom come your way Take my brute, and lead him in, Stuff his ribs with mouldy hay.

"Bitter barmaid, waning fast! See that sheets are on my bed; What! the flower of life is past: It is long before you wed.

"Slip-shod waiter, lank and sour, At The Dragon on the heath! Let us have a quiet hour, Let us hob-and-nob with Death.