MOPING CASTLE
Reading edition
‘Why have you planted firs About your dwelling, Of trees created Choosing the most adverse To mortal cheer? Whose breasts uncouth, both song And spring repelling, With endless sighs are freighted; Foreboding every year A deeper wrong. ‘Or have you planted firs About your dwelling That they in proxy Might all your sighs rehearse? Ill-starred one! doomed To mourn your frustrate prime, Your sons rebelling, Your Dear another’s doxy, Your mouldered heart entombed In waste of time.’ ‘No, Friend. I planted firs About my dwelling; But, I protest, meant No clue so apt for verse As you conceive These sombre groves to give. Soon ripe for felling, Firs are a good investment; And though I live to grieve, Yet I must live.’