MY child, we were two children, Small, merry by childhood's law; We used to creep to the henhouse, And hide ourselves in the straw. We crowed like cocks, and whenever The passers near us drew— "Cock-a-doodle!" they thought 'Twas a real cock that crew. The boxes about our courtyard We carpeted to our mind, And lived there both together— Kept house in a noble kind. The neighbor's old cat often Came to pay us a visit; (We have made the very same speeches Each with a compliment in it.) After her health we asked, Our care and regard to evince— (We have made the very same speeches To many an old cat since). We also sat and wisely Discoursed, as old folks do, Complaining how all went better In those good old times we knew;— How love, and truth, and believing Had left the world to itself, And how so dear was the coffee, And how so rare was the pelf. The children's games are over, The rest is over with youth— The world, the good games, the good times, The belief, and the love, and the truth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN OLD WOMAN: 2. HARVEST by EDITH SITWELL AN ODE TO THE FRAMERS OF THE FRAME BILL by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE LONELY HOUSE by EMILY DICKINSON AN ARCTIC VISION [JUNE 20, 1867] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE AT THE CANNON'S MOUTH by HERMAN MELVILLE INTAGLIOS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |