’For us the wedding gold is weighed,
For us the feast will soon be laid;
We’ll make a gallant show,' he said,—
'She and I together.’
"The feathered man will do a thousand things
And the world go smiling; but the feathered man
May do too much. Now mark how he continues:
"’And you—you go to London Town?'
(Breezes waved the feather)—
’Yes, I go to London Town.'
(Ah, the stinging feather!)—
'Why do you go, my merry blade?
Like me, to marry a fair maid?'—
’Why do I go? . . . God knows,’ he said;
And on they rode together.
"Now you have read it through, and you know best
What worth it has. We fellows with gray hair
Who march with sticks to music that is gray
Judge not your vanguard fifing. You are one
To judge; and you will tell me what you think:—
Barring the Town, the Fair Maid, and the Feather,
The dialogue and those parentheses,
