Classic Poem

What means this transformation! Lo, the burly
Landlord still standing 'neath his portico.
I question him: the rascal shrewd and surly
Stares like an idiot, and seems nought to know.
Deserted is the Hostel, though the early
Sun casts long shadows where the great trees grow.
‘Bring out my horse,’ I cry—and ride away,
Half wondering if I dreamt that yesterday.