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[183] Singing, with his gray hair floating
     Round his rosy ample face,—
Now a thousand Saxon craftsmen
     Stitch and hammer in his place.

All the pastoral lanes so grassy
     Now are Traffic's dusty streets;
From the village, grown a city,
     Fast the rural grace retreats.

But, still green, and tall, and stately,
     On the river's winding shores,
Stand the Occidental plane-trees,
     Stand Hugh Tallant's sycamores.


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Hugh Tallant (1)
Saxon (1)
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1857 AD (1)
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