104
what's o'clock
WHICH, BEING INTERPRETED, IS AS MAY BE, OR OTHERWISE
Underneath the dim, criss-crossing beams
Grown edgeless with the litter of decay,
Where spiders hung their everlasting webs
To wave, tier upon tier, across the gloom
Wherever any little cranny wind
Whined in on them and tumbled up the dust
Upon the flaking beams and on the floor
Startling the nosing rats to sudden cold,
Old Neron sat, cuddling his withered bones.
Above his head, the great Cathedral bells
Scattered their hallelujahs round the sky
On Sundays, holy days, and festivals;
But Neron took no note of them, his ears
Were inadvertent to such happenings
As cry themselves with bells. He sat unmoved,
Grown edgeless with the litter of decay,
Where spiders hung their everlasting webs
To wave, tier upon tier, across the gloom
Wherever any little cranny wind
Whined in on them and tumbled up the dust
Upon the flaking beams and on the floor
Startling the nosing rats to sudden cold,
Old Neron sat, cuddling his withered bones.
Above his head, the great Cathedral bells
Scattered their hallelujahs round the sky
On Sundays, holy days, and festivals;
But Neron took no note of them, his ears
Were inadvertent to such happenings
As cry themselves with bells. He sat unmoved,
