PART II.
Near the corner, and near the clock,
Sits a man in a dingy frock;
A slouchèd hat on his head wears he,
So sunken his eyes you cannot see;
His clothes are turned of a rusty hue,
All worn with age and damp with dew,
A traveler! I’ll be sworn he be,
This stranger man so strange to see,
Weary with driving adown the lea;