CLXXIV
THE SQUIRE’S PEW.
A slanting ray of evening light
Shoots through the yellow pane:
It makes the faded crimson bright,
And gilds the fringe again;
The window’s gothic framework falls 5
In oblique shadows on the walls.
And since those trappings first were new,
How many a cloudless day,
To rob the velvet of its hue,