Part 4

The dark is full of laughter, Boy laughter, glad and young, They tell the old-time stories, The old-time songs are sung; They linger in her cloisters, They throng her dewy meads, Till Isis hears their calling And laughs among her reeds.

But, when the east is whitening To greet the rising sun, And slowly, over Carfax, The stars fade, one by one, Then, when the dawn-wind whispers Along the Isis shore, The Gentlemen of Oxford Must seek their graves once more.

The Temple Press, Letchworth, England

End of Project Gutenberg's Spun-yarn and Spindrift, by Norah M. Holland