Bouts-Rimés Sonnets I.

A mid the shades of a deserted hall
  I stand and think on much that hath been lost.
  How long it is since other step has crost
This time-worn floor!  This tapestry is all
Worm-eaten ; and these columns rise up tall
  Yet crumbling to decay ; where banners tost
  Thin spider's webs hang now ; the bitter frost
Has even killed the flowers upon the wall.
Yet once this was a home brimful of life,
  Full of the hopes and fears and love of youth,
    Full of love's language speaking without sound :
  Here honour was enshrined and kindly truth ;
Hither the young lord brought his blushing wife,
    And here the bridal garlands were unbound.