Has come and passed away! 10
How many a setting sun hath made
That curious lattice-work of shade!
Crumbled beneath the hillock green
The cunning hand must be,
That carved this fretted door, I ween, 15
Acorn and fleur-de-lis;
And now the worm hath done her part
In mimicking the chisel’s art.
In days of yore (as now we call)