Lady Clara Vere de Vere
Was eight years old
, she said:
, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden thread.
She took her little porringer
Of me she shall not win renown:
For the baseness
of its nature shall have strength to drag her
"Sisters and brothers, little Maid?
There stands the Inspector at thy door:
Like a dog
, he hunts for boys who know not two and two are four."
"Kind words are more than coronets
She said, and wondering looked at me:
"It is the dead unhappy night
, and I must hurry home to tea