I.
The Gothic looks solemn,
The plain Doric column
Supports an old Bishop and Crosier;
The mouldering arch,
Shaded o’er by a larch
Stands next door to Wilson the Hosier.
II.
Vice–that is, by turns,–
O’er pale faces mourns
The black tassell’d trencher and common hat;
The Chantry boy sings,
The Steeple-bell rings,
And as for the Chancellor–dominat.
III.
There are plenty of trees,
And plenty of ease,
And plenty of fat deer for Parsons;
And when it is venison,
Short is the benison,–
Then each on a leg or thigh fastens.
***
More poems by John Keats
