Had ta’en her shawl in preference to their own.
There where those rugged planks uneven lie,
There on those dirty boards—that darken’d stage
Did Kean and Kemble fill the listener’s eye,
And add a lustre to the poet’s page.
But they are gone—and never, never more
Shall prompter’s summons, or the tinkling bell,
Or call boy crying at the green-room door,
“The stage waits, gentlemen!” their dreams dispel.
For them no more the coaches of the great