Classic Poem

Sometimes she walk'd on the upper leads,
And lean'd on the arm of the weather-worn Warden:
Sometimes she sat 'twixt the mildewy beds
Of the sea-singed flowers in the Pleasaunce Garden;
Till the rotting blooms that lay thick on the walks
Were comb'd by the white sea-gust like a rake,
And the stimulant stream of the leaves and stalks
Made the coilèd Memory, numb and cold,
That slept in her heart like a dreaming snake,
Drowsily lift himself fold by fold,
And gnaw and gnaw hungrily, half-awake.