And a hobble to death on the further shore.
"Master, you were saddened when we parted,
Begged of my new master to be kind;
Divers owners since and divers-hearted
Leave me old and weary, lame and blind.
Voices in the tempest passing over—
'Good lass!'—I can scarcely turn my head.
Oats and deep-strewn stall and rack of clover,
Long ago—and oh that I were dead!"
Piteous fate—too long to live,