Page:Wessex poems and other verses (IA wessexpoemsother00hard).pdf/127

 As "Theirs" had done (fame handed down) When lying in the self-same town Ere Buonaparté's fall.

That night the throbbing "Soldier's Joy," The measured tread and sway Of "Fancy-Lad" and "Maiden Coy," Reached Jenny as she lay Beside her spouse: till springtide blood Seemed scouring through her like a flood That whisked the years away.

She rose, and rayed, and decked her head To hide her ringlets thin; Upon her cap two bows of red She fixed with hasty pin: Unheard descending to the street, She trod the flags with tune-led feet, And stood before the Inn.

Save for the dancers', not a sound Disturbed the icy air; No watchman on his midnight round Or traveller was there;