Iv

Here’s where the lads of the village cricket: I was a lad not wide from here: Couldn’t I whip off the bail from the wicket? Like an old world those days appear! Donkey, sheep, geese, and thatched ale-house—I know them! They are old friends of my halts, and seem, Somehow, as if kind thanks I owe them: Juggling don’t hinder the heart’s esteem.