Green Bays

Retrospection

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When the hunter-star Orion

(Or, it may be, Charles his Wain)

Tempts the tiny elves to try on

All their little tricks again;

When the earth is calmly breathing

Draughts of slumber undefiled,

And the sire, unused to teething,

Seeks for errant pins his child;

When the moon is on the ocean,

And our little sons and heirs

From a natural emotion

Wish the luminary theirs;

Then a feeling hard to stifle,

Even harder to define,

Makes me feel I 'd give a trifle

For the days of Auld Lang Syne.

James--for we have been as brothers

(Are, to speak correctly, twins),

Went about in one another's

Clothing, bore each other's sins,

Rose together, ere the pearly

Tint of morn had left the heaven,

And retired (absurdly early)

Simultaneously at seven--

James, the days of yore were pleasant.

Sweet to climb for alien pears

Till the irritated peasant

Came and took us unawares;

Sweet to devastate his chickens,

As the ambush'd catapult

Scattered, and the very dickens

Was the natural result;

Sweet to snare the thoughtless rabbit;

Break the next-door neighbour's pane;

Cultivate the smoker's habit

On the not-innocuous cane;

Leave the exercise unwritten;

Systematically cut

Morning school, to plunge the kitten

In his bath, the water-butt.

Age, my James, that from the cheek of

Beauty steals its rosy hue,

Has not left us much to speak of:

But 'tis not for this I rue.

Beauty with its thousand graces,

Hair and tints that will not fade,

You may get from many places

Practically ready-made.

No; it is the evanescence

Of those lovelier tints of Hope--

Bubbles, such as adolescence

Joys to win from melted soap--

Emphasizing the conclusion

That the dreams of Youth remain

Castles that are An delusion

(Castles, that's to say, in Spain).

Age thinks 'fit,' and I say 'fiat.'

Here I stand for Fortune's butt,

As for Sunday swains to shy at

Stands the stoic coco-nut.

If you wish it put succinctly,

Gone are all our little games;

But I thought I 'd say distinctly

What I feel about it, James.

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