"On the wan walk to Foxhill,
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.

So, deeply the heavy heart exhaled
To see that the eyes were paled
And my feet below blinder still
Pulled the heart again to Foxhill."

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