No ready grooms my call await;
Leaps on its hinge no friendly gate;
Not for my meal that kitchen’s blaze;
Thy people on a stranger gaze;
And, for the fox-hound cow’ring bland,
Bays the fierce house-dog at his stand.
Yet, as my doubtful step withdraws,
Fresh memories plead for longer pause;
While mixes with each faint farewell
What only struggling sighs can tell.