THE BLIND HARPER
And so it came that I was led
To wizard walls that haggard hung
Old as their rock, black-mossed and dead,
Wild-swarmed with towers; and, flaming flung
Around them,—far, a moat of red,—
A million poppies sprung.
And here I harped.—All seemed asleep;
Till, hoarse beneath, harsh hinges gnarred