Classic Poem

(Dear Kitly Low, the day I met you, keen
And fresh and laughter-loving and sixteen,
Finding this world a luscious, mellow pippin
Just waiting for your zestful teeth to dip in,—
You tranced me with your young, hypnotic power
To be a boy with you for one glad hour.
Then off you tripped and left me in the cold
Where I feel haggard, lined and strangely old.
But first you set beneath my agéd bonnet
The sentiments reflected in this sonnet):

Earth yields to man no more delicious joy
Than for a vivid moment to recapture
The magic world he dwelt in as a boy:
To know the tang of grapes again,—the rapture
Of forest brooks, the scent of whittled ash,
The glamour of the pirate beacon's glow,
And spirit casements opening for a flash
On sunrise heavens of the long ago.
Earth yields to man no more insidious pain
Than when his dulling senses yearn to be
Tasting the old sweet sting of love again,
The old sharp kelpy fragrance of the sea;
Only to find how far his feet have gone
Forth from the dewy portals of the dawn.