Another name was on the door:
⁠I linger'd; all within was noise
⁠Of songs, and clapping hands, and boys
That crash'd the glass and beat the floor;

Where once we held debate, a band
⁠Of youthful friends, on mind and art,
⁠And labour, and the changing mart,
And all the framework of the land;

When one would aim an arrow fair,
⁠But send it slackly from the string;
⁠And one would pierce an outer ring,
And one an inner, here and there;

And last the master-bowman, he
⁠Would cleave the mark. A willing ear
⁠We lent him. Who, but hung to hear
The rapt oration flowing free

From point to point with power and grace,
⁠And music in the bounds of law,
⁠To those conclusions when we saw
The God within him light his face,