And they had no heed of me.
"And I lifted my head quite dazed from the churchyard wall
And I doubted not that it warned I should soon have my call.
But--" . . . Then in the ashes he emptied the dregs of his cup,
And onward he went, and the darkness swallowed him up.
HE REVISITS HIS FIRST SCHOOL
I should not have shown in the flesh,
I ought to have gone as a ghost;
It was awkward, unseemly almost,
Standing solidly there as when fresh,
Pink, tiny, crisp-curled,
My pinions yet furled
From the winds of the world.
After waiting so many a year
To wait longer, and go as a sprite
From the tomb at the mid of some night
Was the right, radiant way to appear;
Not as one wanzing weak
From life's roar and reek,
His rest still to seek:
Yea, beglimpsed through the quaint quarried glass
Of green moonlight, by me greener made,
When they'd cry, perhaps, "There sits his shade
In his olden haunt--just as he was
When in Walkingame he
Conned the grand Rule-of-Three
With the bent of a bee."
But to show in the afternoon sun,
With an aspect of hollow-eyed care,
When none wished to see me come there,
Was a garish thing, better undone.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98