Page:The town down the river; a book of poems.djvu/111



Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
 * Grew lean while he assailed the seasons;

He wept that he was ever born,
 * And he had reasons.

Miniver loved the days of old
 * When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;

The vision of a warrior bold
 * Would set him dancing.