And the youth next door with the ophicleide!
We are the folk that a-summering went!
Who from small bare rooms wherein we were pent,
While birds their way to the southward wing,
Come back, our money for no good spent—
This is the end of our summering.
ENVOY
Citizens! list to our sore lament—
While the landlord’s hands to our raiment cling—
We are the folk that a-summering went: