Page:Songs of the Road Doyle.djvu/65



'Twas in the shadowy gloaming

Of a cold and wet March day,

That a wanderer came roaming

From countries far away.

Scant raiment had he round him,

Nor purse, nor worldly gear,

Hungry and faint we found him,

And bade him welcome here.

His weary frame bent double,

His eyes were old and dim,

His face was writhed with trouble

Which none might share with him.