The houses seemed haunted and grimy,
The windows were gruesome and dim.
The iron gate scrooped on its hinges,
The clock struck a querulous chime,
As though it were feeling some twinges
'Twas almost forgotten by Time.
But I opened the door, and the picture was fair,
In the fine ancient church, in this sad City square!
A fair little lass, holly-laden—
With eyes of cerulean blue—