Lacks many an autumn-gathering hand.
And there are troth-plight maids unwed
Shall deem awhile that love is dead;
And babes there are to men shall grow
Nor ever the face of their fathers know.
And yet in the Land by the River-side
Doth never a thrall or an earl's man bide;
For Hugh the Earl of might and mirth
Hath left the merry days of Earth;
And we live on in the land we love,