Classic Poem

Said horse-swapping Jem, with his hat on his lap,
While his bull-bitch sate listening near,
" Was ever yet seen by a Stannington-Chap
A contrast like this I see here?
With Susan, my cousin, just four feet by two,
Here's a gipsy as tall as a stee:
I guess, she is telling my fortune to Sue;
And, I guess, we know what it will be. "

With his legs on the turf, o'er his hat and his knees,
Behind the bare brambles he bent,
While Rivilin sang to the palm-waving breeze,
A sweet ancient song about new-budded trees,
As townward together the stream and the breeze
Through regions of loveliness went;
And he gaz'd, squatting low in the old birken wood,
On the marble-fac'd prophetess brown,
Whose eyes flash'd black venom where stately she stood,
In her grey cloak and long sallow gown;
With her slightly arch'd nose, her smooth brow finely spread,
Her chin, sharply chisel'd and bold
Under lips of firm beauty. Her face and her head
Formed an oval of darkness and gold.
Her hair was like horsehair, when glossy it lies
On the strong stallion's neck, where the fledg'd linnet flies;
And her black felted hat, suiting well with her size,
Was a crown on the head of a queen;
But 'twas strange! when he look'd on her face and wild eyes,
Her eyes only seem'd to be seen.