Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/334

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316
A DARK MONTH.

IX.

As a poor man hungering stands with insatiate eyes and hands

Void of bread
Right in sight of men that feast while his famine with no least
Crumb is fed,

Here across the garden-wall can I hear strange children call,
Watch them play,
From the windowed seat above, whence the goodlier child I love
Is away.

Here the sights we saw together moved his fancy like a feather
To and fro,
Now to wonder, and thereafter to the sunny storm of laughter
Loud and low—