I've brought her my last wages home,' he said.
He trod his last free journey down the street;
Treading the middle road, and seeing both sides,
The school, the inns, the butchers selling meat,
The busy market where the town divides.
Then past the tanpits full of stinking hides,
And up the lane to death, as weak as pith.
'By God, I hate this, Jimmy,' said the smith.
VI
Anna in black, the judge in scarlet robes,