Classic Poem

I told my tale of the Holy Thumb
That split the Dragon asunder,
And my daughters made great eyes as they heard,
Which were full of delight and wonder.

With listening lips and looks intent,
There sat an eager boy,
Who shouted sometimes, and clapp'd his hands,
And could not sit still for joy.

But when I look'd at my Mistress's face,
It was all too grave the while;
And when I ceased, methought there was more
Of reproof than of praise in her smile.

That smile I read aright, for thus
Reprovingly said she,
“Such tales are meet for youthful ears,
But give little content to me.

“From thee far rather would I hear
Some sober, sadder lay,
Such as I oft have heard, well pleased
Before those locks were gray.”

“Nay, Mistress mine,” I made reply,
“The Autumn hath its flowers,
Nor ever is the sky more gay
Than in its evening hours.

“Our good old Cat, Earl Tomlemagne,
Upon a warm Spring day,
Even like a kitten at its sport,
Is sometimes seen to play.

“That sense which held me back in youth
From all intemperate gladness,
That same good instinct bids me shun
Unprofitable sadness.

“Nor marvel you if I prefer
Of playful themes to sing;
The October grove hath brighter tints
Than Summer or than Spring;

“For o'er the leaves, before they fall,
Such hues hath Nature thrown,
That the woods wear, in sunless days,
A sunshine of their own.

“Why should I seek to call forth tears?
The source from whence we weep
Too near the surface lies in youth;
In age it lies too deep.

“Enough of foresight sad, too much
Of retrospect, have I;
And well for me that I sometimes
Can put those feelings by;—

“From public ills, and thoughts that else
Might weigh me down to earth,
That I can gain some intervals
For healthful, hopeful mirth;—

“That I can sport in tales which suit
Young auditors like these,
Yet, if I err not, may content
The few I seek to please.

“I know in what responsive minds
My lightest lay will wake
A sense of pleasure, for its own,
And for its author's sake

“I know the eyes in which the light
Of memory will appear;
I know the lips, which, while they read,
Will wear a smile sincere;—

“The hearts to which my sportive song
The thought of days will bring,
When they and I, whose Winter now
Comes on, were in our Spring.

“And I their well-known voices too,
Though far away, can hear,
Distinctly, even as when in dreams
They reach the inward ear.

“‘There speaks the man we knew of yore,
Well pleased I hear them say;
‘Such was he in his lighter moods,
Before our heads were gray.

“‘Buoyant he was in spirit, quick
Of fancy, blithe of heart,
And Care, and Time, and Change have left
Untouch'd his better part.’

“Thus say my morning friends who now
Are in the vale of years,
And I, save such as thus may rise,
Would draw no other tears.”