Page:Captain Craig; a book of poems.djvu/105

Rh Hovered an air of still simplicity And a fragrance of old summers—the old style That lives the while it passes. I dare say That I was lightly conscious of all this When Isaac, of a sudden, stopped himself, And for the long first quarter of a minute Gazed with incredulous eyes, forgetful quite Of breezes and of me and of all else Under the scorching sun but a smooth-cut field, Faint yellow in the distance. I was young, But there were a few things that I could see, And this was one of them.—"Well, well!" said he; And "Archibald will be surprised, I think," Said I. But all my childhood subtlety Was lost on Isaac, for he strode along Like something out of Homer—powerful And awful on the wayside, so I thought. Also I thought how good it was to be So near the end of my short-legged endeavor To keep the pace with Isaac for five miles.

Hardly had we turned in from the main road When Archibald, with one hand on his back And the other clutching his huge-headed cane, Came limping down to meet us.—"Well! well! well!"