Sylvia; or, The Last Shepherd - Part 12
" You grew to her more fond and near,
And mine no more! Ah, never more
You brought the antlered forest deer
And laid it at my door.
" And ever round the hall and hearth,
These branching emblems of the chase
Mocked me with memory of the mirth
Which once made bright the place.
" No more 'neath autumn's sun or cloud
You paid to me the pleasing tax
Of labour at the swingle loud,
Breaking the brittle flax.
" No more when winter walked our clime
We woke the evening-lighted room,
With laugh and song, still keeping time
To whirring wheel or loom.
" Nor blazed the great logs as of yore,
Cheered with the cricket's pastoral song;
The cider and the nuts were o'er,
And gone the jovial throng
" The hearth was basely narrowed down;
The antlered walls were stripped and bare;
The oaken floor no more was known, —
A foreign woof was there.
And mine no more! Ah, never more
You brought the antlered forest deer
And laid it at my door.
" And ever round the hall and hearth,
These branching emblems of the chase
Mocked me with memory of the mirth
Which once made bright the place.
" No more 'neath autumn's sun or cloud
You paid to me the pleasing tax
Of labour at the swingle loud,
Breaking the brittle flax.
" No more when winter walked our clime
We woke the evening-lighted room,
With laugh and song, still keeping time
To whirring wheel or loom.
" Nor blazed the great logs as of yore,
Cheered with the cricket's pastoral song;
The cider and the nuts were o'er,
And gone the jovial throng
" The hearth was basely narrowed down;
The antlered walls were stripped and bare;
The oaken floor no more was known, —
A foreign woof was there.
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