Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/23

 THE RAPE OF THE BARON'S WINE

was stealing the Baron's wine, Golden sherry and port so old, Precious, I wot, as drops of gold? Lone to-night he came to dine,

Flung himself in his oaken chair, Kicked the hound that whined for bread; “God I the thief shall swing!” he said, Thrust his hand through his ruffled hair.

Bolt and bar and double chain Held secure the cellar door; And the watchman placed before, Kept a faithful watch in vain.

Every day the story came, “Master, come! I hear it drip!” The wine is wet on the robber's lip, Who the robber, none could name.

All the folk in County Clare Found a task for every day By the Baron's gate to stray. Came to gossip, stayed to stare.

Nothing here to satisfy Souls for tragedy awake; Just the castle by the lake. Calmest spot beneath the sky.

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