Thomas Hardy
The House of Hospitalities
Here we broached the Christmas barrel,
       &nbsp Pushed up the charred log-ends;
Here we sang the Christmas carol,
       &nbsp       &nbsp And called in friends.

Time has tired me since we met here
       &nbsp When the folk now dead were young,
Since the viands were outset here
       &nbsp       &nbsp And quaint songs sung.

And the worm has bored the viol
       &nbsp That used to lead the tune,
Rust eaten out the dial
       &nbsp       &nbsp That struck night's noon.

Now no Christmas brings in neighbours,
       &nbsp And the New Year comes unlit;
Where we sang the mole now labours,
       &nbsp       &nbsp And spiders knit.

Yet at midnight if here walking,
       &nbsp When the moon sheets wall and tree,
I see forms of old time talking,
       &nbsp       &nbsp Who smile on me.