I do remember an old BACHELOR,
And hereabouts he dwells—whom late I noted
In suit of sables, with care worn brow,
Conning his books—and meagre were his looks:
Celibacy had worn him to the bone;
And in his silent parlour hung a coat,
The which the moth had used not less than he.
Four chairs, one table, and an old hair trunk,
Made up its furniture; and on his shelves
A grease-clad candlestick, a broken mug,