 | A memoir by Hallam Tennyson (1897) |  |
134
Mine Host.
Yon huddled cloud his motion shifts,
Where, by the tavern in the dale,
The thirsty horseman, nodding, lifts
The creaming horn of corny ale!
Where, by the tavern in the dale,
The thirsty horseman, nodding, lifts
The creaming horn of corny ale!
This tavern is their chief resort,
For he, whose cellar is his pride,
Gives stouter ale and riper port
Than any in the country-side.
For he, whose cellar is his pride,
Gives stouter ale and riper port
Than any in the country-side.
135
Mine host is fat, and gray, and wise,
He strokes his beard before he speaks;
And when he laughs, his little eyes
Are swallow'd in his pamper'd cheeks.
He strokes his beard before he speaks;
And when he laughs, his little eyes
Are swallow'd in his pamper'd cheeks.
He brims his beaker to the top,
With jokes you never heard before,
And sometimes with a twinkling drop,
“To those who will not taste it more!”
With jokes you never heard before,
And sometimes with a twinkling drop,
“To those who will not taste it more!”
| A memoir by Hallam Tennyson (1897) | |