A song of Long Ago: 
Sing it lightly—­sing it low—­
Sing it softly—­like the lisping of the lips we used to know
When our baby-laughter spilled
From the glad hearts ever filled
With music blithe as robin ever trilled!

Let the fragrant summer-breeze,
And the leaves of locust-trees,
And the apple-buds and blossoms, and the wings of honey-bees,
All palpitate with glee,
Till the happy harmony
Brings back each childish joy to you and me.

Let the eyes of fancy turn
Where the tumbled pippins burn
Like embers in the orchard’s lap of tangled grass and fern,—­
There let the old path wind
In and out and on behind
The cider-press that chuckles as we grind.

[Illustration:  (A SONG OF LONG AGO)]

Blend in the song the moan
Of the dove that grieves alone,
And the wild whir of the locust, and the bumble’s drowsy drone;
And the low of cows that call
Through the pasture-bars when all
The landscape fades away at evenfall.

Then, far away and clear,
Through the dusky atmosphere,
Let the wailing of the kildee be the only sound we hear: 
O sad and sweet and low
As the memory may know
Is the glad-pathetic song of Long Ago!

WHEN AGE COMES ON

When Age comes on!—­
The deepening dusk is where the dawn
  Once glittered splendid, and the dew
In honey-drips, from red rose-lips
  Was kissed away by me and you.—­
And now across the frosty lawn
Black foot-prints trail, and Age comes on—­
          And Age comes on! 
  And biting wild-winds whistle through
Our tattered hopes—­and Age comes on!

When Age comes on!—­
O tide of raptures, long withdrawn,
  Flow back in summer-floods, and fling
Here at our feet our childhood sweet,
  And all the songs we used to sing!... 
Old loves, old friends—­all dead and gone—­
Our old faith lost—­and Age comes on—­
          And Age comes on! 
  Poor hearts! have we not anything
But longings left when Age comes on!

[Illustration:  (WHEN AGE COMES ON)]

[Illustration:  (FARMER WHIPPLE—­BACHELOR—­TITLE)]

FARMER WHIPPLE—­BACHELOR

It’s a mystery to see me—­a man o’ fifty-four,
Who’s lived a cross old bachelor fer thirty year’ and more—­
A-lookin’ glad and smilin’!  And they’s none o’ you can say
That you can guess the reason why I feel so good to-day!

I must tell you all about it!  But I’ll have to deviate
A little in beginnin’, so’s to set the matter straight
As to how it comes to happen that I never took a wife—­
Kind o’ “crawfish” from the Present to the Springtime of my life!

I was brought up in the country:  Of a family of five—­
Three brothers and a sister—­I’m the only one alive,—­
Fer they all died little babies; and ‘twas one o’ Mother’s ways,
You know, to want a daughter; so she took a girl to raise.