Page:The eighth sin (IA eighthsin00morlrich).pdf/28



envy the golden cock
 * Atop St. Mary's spire

What sights there are for him to see
 * What music to admire—

The rose-red dawns, the chime of bells,
 * The sunsets fringed with fire.

From his windy vantage does he see
 * The crumbling walls of grey?

And Isis, through the cloth of green
 * Stitching her silver way?

Does the scent of Cotswold violets come
 * From twenty miles away?

Aloft in the cool blue void of night
 * Does he count the stars? Until

Through the smoke of smouldering dawn he hears
 * His brethren on Cumnor Hill

Hailing the flames of coming day
 * With voices clear and shrill?