Thomas Hardy — The maid of Keinton Mandeville

I hear that maiden still Of Keinton Mandeville Singing, in flights that played As wind-wafts through us all, Till they made our mood a thrall To their aery rise and fall,        &nbsp “Should he upbraid.” Rose-necked, in sky-gray gown, From a stage in Stower Town Did she sing, and singing smile As she blent that dexterous voice With the ditty of her choice, And banished our annoys        &nbsp Thereawhile. One with such song had power To wing the heaviest hour Of him who housed with her. Who did I never knew When her spoused estate ondrew, And her warble flung its woo        &nbsp In his ear. Ah, she’s a beldame now, Time-trenched on cheek and brow, Whom I once heard as a maid From Keinton Mandeville Of matchless scope and skill Sing, with smile and swell and trill,        &nbsp “Should he upbraid!”