THE WEST-OF-WESSEX GIRL

A very West-of-Wessex girl,

As blithe as blithe could be,

Was once well-known to me,

And she would laud her native town,

And hope and hope that we

Might sometime study up and down

Its charms in company.

But never I squired my Wessex girl

In jaunts to Hoe or street

When hearts were high in beat,

Nor saw her in the marbled ways

Where market-people meet

That in her bounding early days

Were friendly with her feet.

Yet now my West-of-Wessex girl,

When midnight hammers slow

From Andrew's, blow by blow,

As phantom draws me by the hand

To the place — Plymouth Hoe —

Where side by side in life, as planned,

We never were to go!