Explore "The Last Scion of the House of Clare" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
_Year 13._
/ Barbican, bartizan, battlement, / With the Abergavenny mountains blent, / Look, from the Raglan tower of Gwent, / My lord Hugh Clifford's ancient home / Shows, clear morns of the Spring or Summer, / Thrust out like thin flakes o' a silver foam / From a climbing cloud, for the hills gloom glummer, / Being shaggy with heath, yon. -- I was his page; / A favorite then; and he of that age / When a man will love and be loved again, / Or die in the wars or a monastery: / Or toil till he stifle his heart's hard pain, / Or drink, drug his hopes and his lost love bury.