Eating alone, what shall I have along
                        For company
  At my small table, while the young
  Mostly it is who'll neighbor me
In twos, threes, fours, clear eyed and smooth of face,
                        Inside this place?

- Old Bridges, yes; the secret of a few
                        Not doctrinaire
  Who see the firm shapes, lovely, true,
  Stir in that style 'so worn and bare',
Stone carved and weathered, rose- and ivy-trace
                        Still twine in place;

This Hume, which from its unfrequented, dim
                       And cool recess,
  His minor works, I pick by whim;
  Prose at its ease in formal dress,
...