Thomas Hardy — The House of Hospitalities

Here we broached the Christmas barrel,        &nbsp Pushed up the charred log-ends; Here we sang the Christmas carol,        &nbsp       &nbsp And called in friends. Time has tired me since we met here        &nbsp When the folk now dead were young, Since the viands were outset here        &nbsp       &nbsp And quaint songs sung. And the worm has bored the viol        &nbsp That used to lead the tune, Rust eaten out the dial        &nbsp       &nbsp That struck night's noon. Now no Christmas brings in neighbours,        &nbsp And the New Year comes unlit; Where we sang the mole now labours,        &nbsp       &nbsp And spiders knit. Yet at midnight if here walking,        &nbsp When the moon sheets wall and tree, I see forms of old time talking,        &nbsp       &nbsp Who smile on me.