“Pulling down and building up is all the go,
And the scene changes like a raree show,”
Yet is it not disgraceful to the nation,
That Shakespeare’s house is doomed to mutilation?
The house in which that great man first drew breath,
A spot renowned before and after death—
Where pilgrims from every land have come,
To see his birth place, Nature’s learned home—
Where first shone forth, a pale, an infant light,