POETRY.
RECOLLECTIONS.
how nice the old days were, When you and I together Went nutting in the autumn woods, And all was golden weather !
The squirrel peeped, the squirrel leaped, Through leaves just turning yellow ; He seemed to grin like harlequin, He was a merry fellow.
How nice the old days were, When Christmas came returning; The games we played, the forfeits paid, The snapdragons set burning !
And on the sly when you and I Talked what we would do one day.
And what a horrid thing it was, When Christmas fell on Sunday. How nice the spring-times were, When days were longer growing ! We knew each nook of sunniest look Where primroses were blowing; And happiest hours of all the year, Spring's fuller bloom installing, The hour that brought the swallow Welt, Or set the cuckoo calling!
And summer, too, with leafy June, With hay-time in the meadows, With corn-crake jarring to the moon,.
And glow-worm chasing shadows! Each butterfly, each song of bird,
We loved them—none was stranger— And when the snake the tall grass stirred,.
We shrank, but loved the danger.
Too good to last ! I went to school; With mutual tears we parted ; You seemed to grieve, or make-believe ; Neither was broken-hearted.
Time flew apace, I homeward came A bird of prouder feather; We could no longer be the same As boy and girl together.
There was a bar we could not break ; But still, when eve is falling,
When spring has brought the swallow back,
And set the cuckoo calling, I think how nice the old days were Of childish first affection, And put to sleep each waking care With dreaming recollection.
Previous page
