An architect would call it vile;—
And really I must share his view.
And then that roof with moss-tufts blowing,—
Bless me, they’re none of Belë’s growing.
No, we may overmuch assert
The reverence for ancient glories!
One fact, at least, there’s no o’erthrowing,
That this old rotten hut no more is
But just a very heap of dirt!
Brand.