But in these, I knew, Love’s fires were cold,
That their aim and hope was Pity’s gold!
Yet, for such the gold will turn to dross,
And the profits all shall come to loss;
For the Law is this while justice lives:
To the man be gain who value gives!
Keep sweet!
Dust your feet
And stand not out in the Stour of the Street!
‘But I’ve also seen throughout the years,—