I know you hold it for a fault
That I bend with burdening years,
Dull of eye, and dull of ears;
That this poll
Whitens like a flax-wigged doll.
'T is a fault, you think; but wait!
Something marches, men call Fate;
If you, boy! succeed in keeping
Safe from sweep of Old Time's reaping,
You'll be the bent-back one that hobbles
Over the cobbles—
Wondering why, all young at heart,
With the old you're pushed apart.
TO JACOB A. RIIS
ON HIS SILVER WEDDING
Were true hearts bells, all breezes would be bringing,
Straight to your heart to-day, a silver ringing
From those you 've blest, the heavy hearts and sore;—
Hark the sweet sound from here to Elsinore!
MUSIC AND FRIENDSHIP
Thrice is sweet music sweet when every word
And lovely tone by kindred hearts are heard;
So when I hear true music, Heaven send,
To share that heavenly joy, one dear, dear friend!
FRIENDSHIP
TO ——
From the happy first time
That we met—and wondered,
I from thee and thou from me
Ne'er in soul were sundered.
