I DARESAY if I were to tell, What I do miss or here or there, In this old town I love so well -- What shrill of laughter down the air! Each door was wide and painted white; And every day its plate of brass, A small maid-servant polished bright, Until it shone like any glass. Each Covenanter name stood plain, A mellow mouthful, yet pricked through With fighting yesters, heard again Like clash of spears across the dew. A hundred things and more are gone In this old town where'er I pass; But most of all, from dawn to dawn, I miss the little plates of brass! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BELLS OF SHANDON by FRANCIS SYLVESTER MAHONY THE FLIGHT OF THE GEESE by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS STOOD AT CLEAR by ALEXANDER ANDERSON COMPLAINS, BEING HIND'RED THE SIGHT OF HIS NYMPH by PHILIP AYRES BROADCAST by KATHARINE LEE BATES |