"On the wan walk to Foxhill, So, deeply the heavy heart exhaled
My set eyes took a glance,
To find a mighty trunk stood mighty still.
They gazed at its red and yellow frills
And my heart with them in a merry thrill,
Move to the wind in song and dance,
Merrymaking on its loyal roots until,
The hasty hands of Time with will,
Pressed on with a voice too shrill,
To hustle and halt the brief romance.
To see that the eyes were paled
And my feet below blinder still
Pulled the heart again to Foxhill."