Old-Fashioned.

Arcturus is his other name,— I'd rather call him star! It's so unkind of science To go and interfere! I pull a flower from the woods,— A monster with a glass Computes the stamens in a breath, And has her in a class. Whereas I took the butterfly Aforetime in my hat, He sits erect in cabinets, The clover-bells forgot. What once was heaven, is zenith now. Where I proposed to go When time's brief masquerade was done, Is mapped, and charted too! What if the poles should frisk about And stand upon their heads! I hope I 'm ready for the worst, Whatever prank betides! Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven 's changed! I hope the children there Won't be new-fashioned when I come, And laugh at me, and stare! I hope the father in the skies Will lift his little girl,— Old-fashioned, naughty, everything,— Over the stile of pearl!