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134 OTHER VERSE |
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He wiped his red and weeping eyes, And tuned his shell once more,
And Jim is playing yet, I think, Upon that island shore. |
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A MEMORY AND A TEAR.
'Tis noon of night, and from a long, lone walk, I've come to sit me down and meditate; To croon and ponder, musing with myself; To mumble in an old man's piping way.
That walk had been a hard and weary one, Had I been 'companied by other thoughts Than those that held me as I strolled adown The wintry street—the hushed and quiet street, Save for the restless wind, that blowing light, Listless and wanton, thro' the bare-armed trees, Made music fitting to my reverie, So deep, and reaching to the past, That being once again a boy, my limbs Forgot the years they've marched along beside Since lusty youth, in roseate glow, was mine.
In all the years, since then, I've seen the world On many sides, and felt its jagged points, As rolling in swift motion, on its poles, |
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