Class JP_S)_3l5XL. Book aisAi--- CDiPgtitN?_44^LX_ CDEXRIGHT DEPOSrr. APRIL WEATHER APRIL WEATHKR BY BLANCHE BANE KUDER THE CORNHILL PUBLISHING CO. BOSTON NEW YORK COPTBIGHT 1922 By THE CORNHILL PUBLISHING COMPANY Printed in the United States of America THE JORDAN & MORE PRESS BOSTON SEP 25 '22 ^* 3 4 1 ©cue 8 To My Father THEODORE BANE For permission to reprint these poems I am indebted to the following Magazines: Sunset Magazine J McClure's Magazine, The Woman's Home Companion, Success, Young People, Sun- day Press Magazine, Forward, and The Lyric, TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE The Invitation 3-4 The Wet Road 6-6 To Lieutenant Pat O'Brien 7-8 The Fairy Town 9-10 The Strange Woman 11-12 The Return 13 A Mother Walks in Her Garden 14 The Shropshire Lad 15-16 My Ship 17-18 To A Rose Tree Brought from the Alhambra . . 19 Remembering Her Garden 20-21 "How Many Aprils" 22-23 Song 24 The Wind and the Road 25-26 The Meeting 27-28 "If, in the Skyey Blue" 29-30 To George Meredith 31 Today , 32 At a Wayside Shrine 33-34 The Flight 35-36 Candle Time 37 The Lover Praises His Mistress 38 *TwAS April Brought the Daffodil 39 Elegie (Lemare) 40 The Nest 41 [ixl CONTENTS PAGE The Poet 42 Rain in Spring 43 Three Songs from Arcady: I. The Wind that Shakes the Aspen Tree 44-46 II. Arcady 47-48 III. The Meadow 49-50 A Far Country 51-62 Oblivion 63-54 In Eden 66 Homesick 66-57 The House 68 Quatrain 69 April Wind 60 For a Very Little Person 61-62 [x] APRIL WEATHER THE INVITATION all you little poet folk Who play around with me, Come out into the garden for A quiet cup of tea. We '11 sit beneath the arbor old Where honeysuckles twine, And you will read me all your songs, And I will read you mine. And after you have fed my soul With pleasant words — and true — I'll very gladly say the same Enchanting things to you. [31 APRIL WEATHER And when the time for parting comes, — It will seem far too soon — Well all agree that we have spent A charming afternoon! [4) THE WET EOAD Leave the stretch of the dusty highway, strip your fetters and make you free, Heedless of lure of lane and by-way, forsake your dreaming and come with me The way of the gray and the shining surges, the long wet road that is called the sea. Why do you sigh for the spring-time maying, scent of hawthorn and lilac sweet. And the beckoning fields where you two went stray- ing when youth was laughter and life com- plete? Do you not know that the primrose path may never be trod by returning feet? [5] APRIL WEATHER There is a voice that is all-compelling, dominant, not to be denied, Harking you out from your inland dwelling to take your way with the ebbing tide Where the sun is a friend and the gulls are brothers, and a star is set as the only guide. And the years hold promise of glad tomorrows and of great joys that are yet to be. And the keenest sorrow of all your sorrows becomes but a shadow^^ memory, When you take the road where the winds are run- ning, the long wet road that is called the sea ! 1 6:1 TO LIEUTENANT PAT O'BRIEN Grand were the gifts they brought to you, the fair- ies that came to your christening, Them that danced in the midnight dew and trod the green of the pixy ring. Sure, themselves must have liked you fine when they laid in your cradle tokens three. The gift of smiles, and the gift of wings, and the gift of friends in a far countree. So it was yoursilf that rode the sky for a bit of a chat with the Northern Star, Or watched the great cloud ships sail by from the charted space where the airlanes are. Faith, and I think you laughed at death as you curved and dipped in the shining blue. Did you know that he held never a dart that would serve to shatter the wings of you? [7] APRIL WEATHER Ever hot-foot to dangers new with a heart forget- ting the dangers past. The Little Green Men were good to you, for the luck of the Irish-born held fast. And now that youVe winged it a bit too high to the place where the longest journey ends, It 's Peter himself flung wide the gate with a ^ * Wel- come, lad, you're among your friends!'' (8 THE FAIRY TOWN That I should see a Fairy Town, Half hidden in a shining mist! That I should be the blessed one The Little Man in Green had kissed I The Little Man in Green had kissed And spread before my waking eyes A Fairy Town of amethyst, A Fairy Town with silver skies I That I, should see a Fairy To^vn All emerald and rose and blue ! And in a moment I might see The Fairy Folk come tripping through. The Fairy Folk come tripping through, In kirtles green and kirtles brown, To draw me in a magic ring Into the heart of Fairy Town. [9] APRIL WEATHER That I should see a Fairy Town ! The golden fingers of the sun Came swiftly, surely pulling down The silver curtains, one by one. The silver curtains, one by one The fingers brushed them all away, And smiled before me in the dawn. My Little Town of every day. 10 THE STRANGE WOMAN Than honey knew I love was sweeter, Than arrow knew I death was fleeter, Then did I dread the poisoned cnp Or turn me that I might not meet her? I hastened to the dancing place, For that mad hour grant me grace ! And glamoured by the leaping fire My hot eyes sought and found her face. A slender thing of frost and flame, Gray were the years until she came, She drew me with a scarlet thread. And bound my feet with cords of shame. My breast that pillowed once her head Until the eastern sky burned red, Knows well what price she asked of me, For that one night my soul is dead. [11] APRIL WEATHER Yet knew I love than honey sweeter, Than arrow far was my death fleeter, I shrank not from the cup she bore. My heart outran my feet to meet her ! 112 THE EETURN They say the snow drifts deep and cold, And yet no snow I see. Spring laughs within my heart — to-day My Dear comes home to me. Over the trackless road he comes, He journeys long and far, The screaming gull his constant friend. And for his guide a star. Over the trackless road he comes, The billows break in foam. And miles to him are little things For he is coming home. And do you wonder that I feel No wind that blasts and chills'? My Dear comes home to day — and spring Is white upon the hills I 13] APRIL WEATHER A MOTHER WALKS IN HER GARDEN 1917 The clipped hedge and the hollyhocks, The pungent borders of the box, The stretch of meadow, green and wide, Somewhere in France ahoy has died. That I may walk in my garden dim. His clean young soul is gone from him, That I may loiter in sun-drenched dreams. Over his head the wild shell screams. The apricots by the southern wall, The purple heaps where the ripe plums fall, The fringed grass by the sunk pooPs side. Somewhere in France a hoy has died. That I may gather of fruit and bloom His be the pain and rack and doom. The ashen face and the tortured limb. And mine own son may follow him! [14 THE SHROPSHIEE LAD (A. E. Housman) The cherry branches are white with flower, The green's on meadow and fen — Let me come to you for an hour And walk with you again. Tell me your tale of the poplar trees That bordered the brook you knew, And with never a wind to stir their leaves, Sighed with the soul of you. Take me away into Wenlock Town, Where the broom is yellow as gold. And you plucked the boughs from the hawthorn tree As full as your arms could hold. [15] APRIL WEATHER And show me the tender trysting place Under the aspen tree, Where the aspen whispered as you went by Its pitiful prophecy. TaJ^e me away from these noisy streets, These crowds of hurrying men, Let me come to you for an hour And walk with you again! [16J MY SHIP It's I stand watching, watching across the waters gray, Where the old, old ships come slowly home and the young ships sail away. Where the old, old ships come slowly home, borne on the tireless sea. But when will the little ship I sent come sailing back to me? Never you saw a ship so fair, with her colors flying far, And the curving swell of her wind-filled sails as white as the breakers are. Straight she rode in her gallant pride, breasting the windy dawn, And I watched with eyes that were hot with tears the way that my ship had gone. [17] APRIL WEATHEE The days are long, and the nights are drear, but IVe taken Hope for my friend, And we wait in the curve of the harbor bay till the voyage shall have an end ; We wait in the curve of the harbor bay — never our hearts shall tire, Better the sight of eyes that see than wandering of desire ! Slowly the old, old ships loom up on the far horizon's line. But I give them never a second glance, for none of these ships is mine. It's the little ship that I'm longing for, and the joy that must yet begin. So Hope and I in the harbor watch and wait till my ship comes in ! [181 TO A ROSE TEEE BROUGHT FROM THE ALHAMBRA Why did you die I Within my garden-close Nor tender wind of spring nor summer rain Could call your bud unto the bough again Nor make you blush to bloom, most lovely Rose ! When that I took you from your crumbling wall, **Here," said my heart, **In mine own garden fair A rose of Spain shall perfume the still air And petals murmur legends as they fall.'' Alas my dream ! Not even my love could bring The plashing of the fountain, nor the note Of lute that was the nightingale's own throat As he poured out the passion of the spring. Fool that I was ! You could not live again When all your soul, like mine, was far in Spain ! [19] APRIL WEATHER REMEMBERING HER GARDEN And does my garden dream of me Who loved each flower petal so, Who thrilled with vernal ecstasy W^hen May's new buds began to blow? tell me, do my pansies turn With tender eyes wide-questioning. As though in eagerness to learn Why I have gone away from spring? Could I go back for just one day To view the stately hollyhocks I To mark the soldierly array And stiff precision of the stocks! To greet the pinks, half shy, half bold, Like country damsels decked for town, And pick a gaudy marigold Dressed to the nines in brass and brown I [20] And does my garden dream of me, Who knew of every bloom the soul? I sicken for its ministry, I crave its balm to make me whole ! [21] APEIL WEATHER ^^HOW MANY APRILS'' How many Aprils I shall see With fadeless shimmering And misty bloom on lilac-tree Repeat another spring I do not know. And yet today Your eyes held by my own, I dreamed of Aprils far away That I have never known. I dreamed of Aprils far away, All peacock-green and blue. Perfected, soft, enchanting, gay. And lacking only you ! little ghosts of Aprils far So tender, warm and sweet. To those dim places where you are I turn my willing feet. [22] I hasten down your leafy way, I scent your lilac-tree, And live, unmindful of today, In Aprils yet to be I [231 APEIL WEATHER SONG There was a rose that fell to dust There was a wind that blew. And a butterfly with yellow wings, And you — and you ! The dust of the rose is scattered far The wings are clogged with dew, The little wind died when the sun went down. And you — and joul [24] THE WIND AND THE ROAD There is a road that bids me go, winding o 'er hill and hollow, Eager my heart leaps forth to lead the way that my feet would follow. Lured by the pipe of the blackbird's cry and the flashing wings of the swallow. There is a wind that calls to love — it is the south wind sighing. And one of the winds is a battle call — it is the north wind crying. And the east wind calls for a man to grieve o'er the grave where his youth is lying. But the wind from the west — heart, my heart, quiet your ache and yearning. Cease, my eyes, to implore the skies where the sun- set fires are burning. My feet are held from the ribboned road — for me there is no returning. [25] APRIL WEATHER A knapsack full of thwarted plans and a broken life to greet her ! Her eyes like a quiet mountain lake and her voice than throstles sweeter, What could I say of all my hopes when I turned my face to meet her? Lured by the pipe of the blackbird's cry and the flashing wings of the swallow There is a road that bids me go, winding o'er hill and hollow. There is a wind that blows my heart where I would that my feet might follow I [261 THE MEETING (James E. Flecker and Eupert Brooke) So swift and strangely passed the hours Above his tawny golden head That, seeing half familiar flowers, He did not know that he was dead. The last his earthly eyes had known Before death set his spirit free, The red light of the sunset, thrown Across the blue Aegean sea. One greeted him with friendly eyes : — Untaught, he knew the heavenly tongue- **You know me, here in Paradise? I was a poet, I was young ! ' ' [271 APRIL WEATHER *^Is this, indeed, the Lord's great town? Treading these beds of asphodel, I thought that I had wandered down In Grecian ways I knew so well. ' * Then passed, in shining flight, God's choir. He turned and smiled, remembering, * * Or I may be in Grantchester — *The evening hush, the homing wing!' " [28) ^^IF, IN THE SKYEY BLUE'' If, in the skyey blue, My eyes can see your eyes. If I can dream your wind-blown hair, That shines in Paradise; If every lyric bird Bursting its throat with spring. Can make me hear your voice, your voice In joyous carolling; If patter of the rain From autumn boughs that drips. Can make me feel the poignant touch Of your compelling lips ; Then should my sad heart grieve That we must walk apart, For lack of your dear hand in mine — My heart against your heart? [29] APRIL WEATHER If, in the skyey blue, My eyes may meet your eyes. Then can my spirit, touched with flame Chant high in Paradise ! [30] TO GEORGE MEREDITH (Died at Boxhill, May, 1909) A spray of white bean at his side, White roses on his breast He lies. How very peacefully He takes his meed of rest. **Let the gods rob of what they will. If they leave what is sure,** Thus wrote he to his friend, ^ * the heart, The brave heart to endure." How very peacefully he lies With things he loved a part. White rose and flowering bean above His brave enduring heart. [311 APRIL WEATHER TODAY '^When I come back,'* you said to me, *^It will be thus and thus, We'll count the honeyed sweets in store The future has for us. Our days will all be golden days, And nothing shall we lack. Oh, spring of the year and love, my Dear, For us — when I come back ! ' ' '*When you come home," I said, ^*my heart Will be a bird that sings The haunting airs of loveliness Of all our wasted springs. No space too high our souls to reach, Too vast for us to roam.'' My voice said **When," but oh, my heart Cried out, ^'If you come home!" [32 J AT A WAYSIDE SHRINE Mary, Mother, my heart is sad, like thine own dear heart it is pierced with sorrow, Ever with dusk I dread the night, ever with night I fear the morrow. Ever with dusk I dread the night — ^what can it bring but hopeless waking? And the crimson glow in the burnished west but mocks a heart that is sore with aching. It was thy Son for forty days in the wilderness strove with pride and lust. It is my son who strove and failed, and the gifts of Satan have turned to dust. Empty-handed — thou knowest where — sleeps he or wakes? Is he dead or living? Lead him back where his mother waits, rich with the gifts for love's own giving. [331 APRIL WEATHER Sin-worn face with graven lines carved by follies, I do not see. Only my baby, tired with play, stretches his arms and cries for me. Mary, Mother, thy Name I plead, of thy mercy I ask a sign — Look on the face of Christ, Thy Son — ^know me mother — and send me mine. [34] THE FLIGHT That night there was a great wind that blew across the sky, So strong it struck the steady stars when swift it hurtled by, I thought I saw the bright things like fireflies at play, A great wind, a strong wind — and it blew my soul away. Light as a feather from faery bird my gay soul rose and flew. My soul that was vague as wind-blown smoke with star-shine sifting through. My soul that was clad in rainbow dyes, joyous and fair and free, And I was brushed with magic wings when my soul came back to me. 135] APRIL WEATHER Oh, I walk in the market-place, I speak with my neighbor's tongue, But what knows he of the wind and night when my soul and I were young? What knows he of the dancing stars blowing about the sky When my soul went up like a singing flame on the great wind rushing by! (361 CANDLE TIME I ought to light the candles, The room is growing dim, I ought to light the candles, But I want him ! The gray shadows' footsteps Steal around his chair, My eyes ache with straining. He is not there. He used to light the candles When twilight came. Smiling, as shot up The yellow clear flame. He did not like the shadows, So, for his sake — Oh, if I light the candles, My heart will break ! [37] APRIL WEATHER THE LOVER PRAISES HIS MISTRESS The hills are happy because they kiss the sandals of the Lord, They reach up their leaves — suppliant hands touching his skirts with adoring fingers, And when the south wind blows They clap their hands with joy, because it is his breath. They are glad when night comes and the stars that fall from the shoes of his angels Fringe them with scintillant spangles. The hills are happy because they kiss the sandals of the Lord, And my heart is happy if I may kiss your feet. [381 'TWAS APRIL BROUGHT THE DAFFODIL 'Twas April brought the daffodil, An empty cup of flame It burned upon the greening hill The morning that you came. And after that brief lovely year, —Or was it but a day? — The daffodil was flaming, dear, The night you went away. Why daffodils for love's demands? The whitest blooms they knew They should have placed within your hands To show the soul of you I Now April brings the daffodil. There grows for my desire, A common flower upon the hill, Where once burned yellow fire. [39] APRIL WEATHER ELEGIE— LEMARE Come bring the fragrant mignonette and place the white sweet lilies dim, And chant the hymn, And light the slender waxen tapers clear, and let them for her burn. Who will no more return. Why do you weepf Can all your rain of bitter unavailing tears Bring back those years , When you and she, hand clasped in hand, wan- dered through apple blossom ways Of unforgotten Mays? How still she lies ! The winds of earth her hair no more may stir, her feet That were so white and sweet. Tread the eternal happy fields, and the soft smil- ing of her eyes Looks upon Paradise ! [401 THE NEST Last night I dreamed of a nest, Carefully fashioned, hair-lined and warm, A shelter from rain and the driving storm, Poised in the crotch of the tree with care For the frail little fledglings hidden there, And that was the best. Tonight I will dream of a nest. The hollow of my shoulder, warm and living. Formed for the gift of love 's own giving. The hour of trial I will not dread. Ah, soon shall I feel the little head. And that will be best! [41 APRIL WEATHER THE POET Out of the loves of a thousand years Deep as the sea, as the sea as strong, Of love's sweet sorrows and love's sweet fears. The poet made his song. Her eyes are gray as the sea-gull's wing. Her hair a fragrance of dusky shade, And her voice was a calling, living thing In the song the poet made. Sanctuary is at her feet, She will shrive from your secret sin. Her love is a refuge all complete, Once you have entered in. He broke my heart with a whole world's pain Think you he will sing that song again? Lord and Master of death is he For he sang my dead love back to me I [42] RAIN IN SPRING Hear the marching and the beat In the shadowed lane, Of the mystic, maddened, fleet, Million-footed rain. Well I know the cherry boughs Hidden in the gloom, Make a wet and fragrant house Of their dripping bloom. Hawthorn white with laughing May, Oh, how strange it seems I was with you yesterday, Maying — in my dreams! 143 APRIL WEATHER THREE SONGS FROM ARCADY I THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE ASPEN TREE The wind that shakes the aspen tree, A kindly wind it is to me, For, while the quivering aspen heaves Its multitudes of silver leaves It whispers of dim lovely things, Of blooms of half-remembered springs, Of April airs all warm and sweet, Of wandering paths that drew my feet Through fragrant ways most dear to me, And led me straight to Arcady! [44 but those fields are fresh and fair ! O but the winds are gentle there ! The blossom laughs upon the bough — Would I could see those blossoms now ! There shines on every greening hill The yellow light of daffodil, In every sheltered garden close Blooms the unfading Perfect Rose, And spring's and summer's ecstasy Are merged in one, in Arcady. [45] APEIL WEATHER Pan is not dead! His voice is heard In every call of every bird, The little haunted brooks that run Laughing and bright beneath the sun, Or hid in shadowy wood-aisles dim. Sing their low songs because of him. And 'tis his voice that through the days Calls back the unf orgotten ways, When soft winds shake the aspen tree And lure me straight to Arcady. 146] II AECADY *^Why are your eyes so wide and sad? (Bitter the tears they must have known) Why do you turn from the haunts of men, Why do you follow your path alone ? ' ' * ^ Gray is the drift of the flying cloud, Gray the stretch of the rain-swept sea, Who can tell me the way to go. Which is the way into Arcady? ^*I dwelt there once, in the long ago, My eyes were blind to its beauty then. And I turned my back on the shining fields To follow after the ways of men. **Long have I travelled the dreary road (Cruel the wind with its cutting cold) Seeking the joy that I may not know, Longing for that which I may not hold. [47] APRIL WEATHEE ^ ^ Now my eyes they are old and sad, They ache for the vision they may not see. I have lost the way to my hearths desire, I have lost the way into Arcady!*' [48] Ill THE MEADOW I know a way — will you go, my dear? Will you follow the path with me? The path that leads from the Now and Here Forth into Arcady? Where always the rose is red and sweet, Where always the skies are blue, Where there is rest for wandering feet In the Meadow Where Dreams Come True. Leave behind you your bitter grief, Laugh at your haunting care. Loose the fetters of unbelief — Aready's flowers are fair! Make you a garland of daffodils With never a sprig of rue, And we'll follow the path o'er the Happy Hills To the Meadow Where Dreams Come True. [49] APRIL AVEATHER We will dream our dreams as the hours go, We will fashion them fair and fine, And all of my dreams will be yours, you know, And all of your dreams be mine. Dear, will you follow the path with me? I'm waiting for you, for you, To take the path into Arcady, To the Meadow Where Dreams Come True. [50J A FAE COUNTRY to go home again, just as the dusk is falling ! From out the bush by the broken gate to hear a robin calling! To see the green o' the meadow, drenched with the heavy dew. And to know that back o' that door are warmth and light and you I This is a splendid town, but there's never a song- bird in it, 1 can walk the whole of the day and not see the red throat of a linnet, I can walk the whole of the day, and the only flowers I see Are the roses and pinks in the flower shops that have no call for me. [51] APEIL WEATHER I mind the bunch of marigolds you always kept on the shelf, Does the house seem very quiet now when you 're there all by yourself? You're busy all of the day, I know, but when the twilight falls Does never my voice speak to you out of the lone- some walls'? to go home again, to the house that I was leav- ing! Was it myself was glad to go, though I saw your eyes were grieving! Fool that I was to want the town because it was strange and new, And to think that bach of that door are warmth and light and you! [52] OBLIVION When I am beaten up by the hoofs, Dust of the dust from whence I came, Done with hatreds — ^not with loves! — Unremembered, without a name. May my gods grant me the gift of this, My dust may find your dust to kiss ! Think of it! Madness? Say not so. Here in the flesh my lips met yours, We are but shapes that come and go, Bodies perish — but love endures! Mist of stars and the bluebird's wing, Rose of dawn and the cry of spring ! [53] APBIL WEATHER How shall I know you in the air Beaten up by careless feet? Here in the flesh you are so fair, Flower-flushing and flower-sweet, When that time comes — as it will — suppose I long in the blue for the dust of a rose ! 154] IN EDEN The apple boughs blossomed in Eden. ^^Will you pluck — do you dareT' Said Adam to Eve. **Ah no — by your leave — With boughs blossom bare There'll be no apples there.'' The apples hung ripened in Eden. ^^If you do not dare Permit me, ' ' said Eve, ' ' And I '11 take what you leave ! See, thanks to my care How the fruitage is fair." They fled in a panic from Eden. **0h, how could you dare," Indignant sobbed Eve *^ Those blossoms to leave! Had we stripped the boughs bare There were no apples there!" [55] APEIL WEATHER HOMESICK There is a garden where riotous roses sweeten the sunny day, And the walks are bordered with heliotrope that purples all the way. Sweet-peas flutter their fragrant wings, lavender, mauve, and white. Or are they a flock of butterflies in a rush of deli- cate flight? And there are trees — two apple trees— and one little slender peach. It blossomed bravely a year ago, but the blossoms were out of reach. Curving line of a rosy flame out on the topmost bough. I wonder if that same little peach has put forth blossoms now I 56 Curving line of a rosy flame burning against the blue. And, pointing the blossoms out to me, sweeter than blossoms — you ! I am sick of alien sights and sounds here by a for- eign sea! I want to go to a place where you and a garden wait for me. Ever your voice is calling to me — ever it bids me come. There is a garden — oh, my heart ! I want — I want to go home ! 57 APRIL WEATHER THE HOUSE The house that Love has built for me Is just as rare and fair to see As is the flash of bluebird ^s wing, As are the maple buds in spring. With tender mist of cherry bloom He roofed each dim and lovely room, He raised the walls with minstrelsy Of that dear house he built for me. If Love should build for you a house With lyric walls and roof of boughs, Would you, like me, be full content To have its roof your firmament, To ask no other joy than this But to dweU where fulfilment is Of all the dearest dreams you knew Within the house Love built for you? [581 QUATRAIN Love, place me in your window for a while, That I may bnrgeon in your shining room- Bringing my heart into its perfect bloom. Beneath the benediction of your smile. 59] APRIL WEATHER APRIL WIND The wind that blows in April Is not the wind of May. April's wind is a restless wind With luring things to say. The wind of May is quiet Caressing lip and brow, April's wind is a vagrant wind, And it is April now! The wind that blows in April — Oh, for the peace of May ! — Has blown my heart out of my breast, Has carried my soul away ! 60 FOR A VERY LITTLE PERSON The Moon speaks. Last night I saw a little boy Who did not want to go to bed. He put the nursery window up. ^^You horrid moon/' he said, ^^You always make me stop my play! I think I 'd like to run and hide. ' ' And then he wrinkled up his nose And cried and cried and cried! [61] APRIL WEATHER To-night another little boy All scrubbed and clean and pink and white, With Teddy Bear and Peter Pup Came up to say goodnight. He blew a little kiss to me And gaily trotted off to bed. **I'm just as tired as I can be, Good night, dear Moon,'^ he said. If all the little boys I see Were only just that nice to me ! [62]