Part 17 (1/2)

_Where wail the waters in their flow A spectre wanders to and fro, But nevermore that ghostly sh.o.r.e Shall claim the heir of Yvytot_.

_Sometimes, when, like a fleecy pall, The mists upon the waters fall, Across the main flit shadows twain That do not heed the spectre's call_.

LONG AGO

I once knew all the birds that came And nested in our orchard trees; For every flower I had a name-- My friends were woodchucks, toads, and bees; I knew where thrived in yonder glen What plants would soothe a stone-bruised toe-- Oh, I was very learned then; But that was very long ago!

I knew the spot upon the hill Where checkerberries could be found, I knew the rushes near the mill Where pickerel lay that weighed a pound!

I knew the wood,--the very tree Where lived the poaching, saucy crow, And all the woods and crows knew me-- But that was very long ago.

And pining for the joys of youth, I tread the old familiar spot Only to learn this solemn truth: I have forgotten, am forgot.

Yet here's this youngster at my knee Knows all the things I used to know; To think I once was wise as he-- But that was very long ago.

I know it's folly to complain Of whatsoe'er the Fates decree; Yet were not wishes all in vain, I tell you what my wish should be: I'd wish to be a boy again, Back with the friends I used to know; For I was, oh! so happy then-- But that was very long ago!

TO A SOUBRETTE

'Tis years, soubrette, since last we met; And yet--ah, yet, how swift and tender My thoughts go back in time's dull track To you, sweet pink of female gender!

I shall not say--though others may-- That time all human joy enhances; But the same old thrill comes to me still With memories of your songs and dances.

Soubrettish ways these latter days Invite my praise, but never get it; I still am true to yours and you-- My record's made, I'll not upset it!