LINES that ripple, notes that dance, Foreign measures brought from France, Reaching with a careless ease From high C to -- where you please, Clever, frivolous, and gay -- These will answer in their way; But that tune of long ago -- Stately, solemn, somewhat slow (Dear "Old Hundred" -- that's the air) -- Will outrank them anywhere; Once it breathed a seraph's fire. (Tildy sang it in the choir.) How she stood up straight and tall! Ah! again I see it all; Cheeks that glowed and eyes that laughed, Teeth like cream, and lips that quaffed All the genial country's wealth Of large cheer and perfect health, Gown -- well, yes -- old-fashioned quite, @3You@1 would call it "just a fright," But I love that quaint attire. (Tildy wore it in the choir.) How we sang -- for @3I@1 was there, Occupied a singer's chair Next to -- well, no prouder man Ever lifts the bass, nor can, Sometimes held the self-same book, (How my nervous fingers shook!) Sometimes -- wretch -- while still the air Echoed to the parson's prayer, I would whisper in her ear What she could not help but hear. Once, I told her my desire. (Tildy promised in the choir.) Well, those days are past, and now Come gray hairs, and yet somehow I can't think those years have fled -- Still those roadways know my tread, Still I climb that old pine stair, Sit upon the stiff-backed chair, Stealing glances toward my left Till her eyes repay the theft; Death's a dream and Time's a liar -- Tildy still is in the choir. Come, Matilda number two, @3Fin de siecle@1 maiden you! Wonder if you'd like to see Her I loved in fifty-three? Yes? All right, then go and find Mother's picture -- "Papa!" -- Mind! She and I were married. You Were our youngest. Now you, too, Raise the same old anthems till All the church is hushed and still With a single soul to hear. Do I flatter? Ah, my dear, Time has brought my last desire -- Tildy still @3is@1 in the choir! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE USES OF POETRY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD MORNING by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES MY LITTLE GIRL by SAMUEL MINTURN PECK VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1876 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE HAND OF LINCOLN by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN THE EARLY PRIMROSE by HENRY KIRKE WHITE MY SOLITUDE by JAMES R. AGGELES |