Classic Poem

A curious Gothic building, many-angled,
With carven cloisters in a delicate row,
By flowering creepers hidden and entangled:
Stands the stout landlord in the portico,
Full of grave humour, costumed in old-fangled
Jerkin and hose. His visage has the glow
That like an altar-flame is wont to flicker
About the priesthood of the god of liquor.