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AN OLD STORYIIt was roses, roses, all the way,With myrtle mixed in my path like mad:The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway,The church-spires flamed, such flags they had,A year ago on this very day.IIThe air broke into a mist with bells,The old walls rocked with the crowd and cries.Had I said, Good folk, mere noise repelsBut give me your sun from yonder skies!They had answered, And afterward, what else?IIIAlack, it was I who leaped at the sunTo give it my loving friends to keep!Nought man could do, have I left undone:And you see my harvest, what I reapThis very day, now a year is run.IVTheres nobody on the house-tops nowJust a palsied few at the windows set;For the best of the sight is, all allow,At the Shambles Gateor, better yet,By the very scaffolds foot, I trow........