ware

But these are the days of advance, the works of the men of mind,

When who but a fool would have faith in a tradesman's ware or his word?

Is it peace or war? Civil war, as I think, and that of a kind

without being guilty of it; for there is a set of small-

ware dealers in criticism, who occupy themselves in

the detection of parallel passages: but to sift a dung-

[466] MS. "Ware."

Be ye of gathering fate

Now gladly ware.

Now from the matrix, by God's grinding wrought,

A little image of a flying Love

Made of our coloured glass-ware, in his hands

A dart of gilded metal and a torch.

(Pink nets and wet shells trodden under heel)

She had haggled from the fruit-man of his rotting ware;

(I shall never get to sleep, the way I feel!)

Those of my own life, who by turns had flung

A shadow across me. Straightway I was ’ware,

So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move

I pray to God to give me sorrow and care

If ever, since I highte Hodge of Ware,

Heard I a miller better set a-work;