Will soon have ceased to flow.
THE DEATH OF THE HOST OF THE JOLLY SWAN
The pewter pots were shining on the shelves behind the bar,
Like the gold and silver lining of a sunset cloud afar,
And the pine log fire burned brightly with its blaze of light and heat,
Athwart the untrodden sawdust floor that looked so clean and neat.
A cheerful, ruddy glamor lighted up the tavern walls,
And, shooting through the open door, lit up the silent halls,