And this reft house is that the which he built, <br />Lamented Jack! And here his malt he pil'd, <br />Cautious in vain! These rats that squeak so wild, <br />Squeak, not unconscious of their father's guilt. <br />Did ye not see her gleaming thro' the glade? <br />Belike, 'twas she, the maiden all forlorn. <br />What though she milk no cow with crumpled horn, <br />Yet aye she haunts the dale where erst she stray'd; <br />And aye beside her stalks her amorous knight! <br />Still on his thighs their wonted brogues are worn, <br />And thro' those brogues, still tatter'd and betorn, <br />His hindward charms gleam an unearthly white; <br />As when thro' broken clouds at night's high noon <br />Peeps in fair fragments forth the full-orb'd harvest-moon!<br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-a-ruined-house-in-a-romantic-country-2/
