Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/111

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And my poor children prattled at my side.Methinks I see the old oak table spread,The clean white trencher and the good brown bread,The cheese my daily food which Mary made,For Mary knew full well the housewife's trade:The jug of cyder,—cyder I could make—And then the Knives—I won 'em at the wake.Another has them now! I toiling hereLook backward like a child and drop a tear.
HUMPHREY:I love a dismal story: tell me thine,Meantime, good Will, I'll listen as I dine.I too my friend can tell a piteous story,When I turn'd hero how I purchas'd glory.
WILLIAM:But Humphrey, sure thou never canst have knownThe comforts of a little home thine own:A home so snug, so chearful too as mine,'Twas always clean, and we could make it fine;For there King Charles's golden rules were seen,
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