BOHEMIA
In an evil day,
From those garden-beds
Now 't is hacked away,—
Down the old house goes!
Lo! the sycamores,
Scathed and scrawny mates,
At the mansion doors
Shiver, full of woes;
With its life they grew,
Guarded well its gates;
Now their task is through,—
Down the old house goes!
On this honored site
Modern trade will build,—
What unseemly fright
Heaven only knows!
Something peaked and high,
Smacking of the guild:
Let us heave a sigh,—
Down the old house goes!
BOHEMIA
A PILGRIMAGE
I
When buttercups are blossoming,
The poets sang, 'tis best to wed:
So all for love we paired in Spring—
Blanche and I—ere youth had sped,
For Autumn's wealth brings Autumn's wane.
Sworn fealty to royal Art
Was ours, and doubly linked the chain,
With symbols of her high domain,
That twined us ever heart to heart;
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