Mrs. Macqueen (Or The Lollie-Shop)
With glass like a bull's-eye, And shutters of green, Down on the cobbles Lives Mrs. MacQueen, At six she rises; At nine you see Her candle shine out In the linden tree: And at half-past nine Not a sound is nigh But the bright moon's creeping Across the sky; Or a far dog baying; Or a twittering bird In its drowsy nest, In the darkness stirred; Or like the roar Of a distant sea A long-drawn S-s-sh In the linden tree.
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"With glass like a bull's-eye,..."
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