She told how they used to form for the country dances -
       &nbsp "The Triumph," "The New-rigged Ship" -
To the light of the guttering wax in the panelled manses,
       &nbsp And in cots to the blink of a dip.

She spoke of the wild "poussetting" and "allemanding"
       &nbsp On carpet, on oak, and on sod;
And the two long rows of ladies and gentlemen standing,
       &nbsp And the figures the couples trod.

She showed us the spot where the maypole was yearly planted,
       &nbsp And where the bandsmen stood
While breeched and kerchiefed partners whirled, and panted
       &nbsp To choose each other for good.

She told of that far-back day when they learnt astounded
       &nbsp Of the death of the King of France:
Of the Terror; and then of Bonaparte's unbounded
       &nbsp Ambition and arrogance.

Of how his threats woke warlike preparations
       &nbsp Along the southern strand,
And how each night brought tremors and trepidations
       &nbsp Lest morning should see him land.

She said she had often heard the gibbet creaking
       &nbsp As it swayed in the lightning flash,
Had caught from the neighbouring town a small child's shrieking
       &nbsp At the cart-tail under the lash . . .
With cap-framed face and long gaze into the embers -
       &nbsp We seated around her knees -
She would dwell on such dead themes, not as one who remembers,
       &nbsp But rather as one who sees.

She seemed one left behind of a band gone distant
       &nbsp So far that no tongue could hail:
Past things retold were to her as things existent,
       &nbsp Things present but as a tale.