And his father to death have fared;
Memory-stones | seldom stand by the road
Save when kinsman honors his kin.
[73]. Two make a battle, | the tongue slays the head;
In each furry coat | a fist I look for.
[a]74]. He welcomes the night | whose fare is enough.
(Short are the yards of a ship,)
Uneasy are autumn nights;
Full oft does the weather | change in a week,
And more in a month’s time.