Page:Wessex poems and other verses (IA wessexpoemsother00hard).pdf/143

 No highwayman's trot blew the night-wind To me so life-weary, But only the creak of the gibbets Or wagoners' jee.

Triple-ramparted Maidon gloomed grayly Above me from southward, And north the hill-fortress of Eggar, And square Pummerie.

The Nine-Pillared Cromlech, the Bride-streams, The Axe, and the Otter I passed, to the gate of the city Where Exe scents the sea;

Till, spent, in the graveacre pausing, I learnt 'twas not my Love To whom Mother Church had just murmured A last lullaby.

"Then, where dwells the Canon's kinswoman, My friend of aforetime?"—