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,

“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

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

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,

“Should he upbraid!”