Page:Captain Craig; a book of poems.djvu/28

14 Through March and shifting April to the time When winter first becomes a memory My friend the Captain—to my other friend's Incredulous regret that such as he Should ever get the talons of his talk So fixed in my unfledged credulity— Kept up the peroration of his life, Not yielding at a threshold, nor, I think, Too often on the stairs. He made me laugh Sometimes, and then again he made me weep Almost; for I had insufficiency Enough in me to make me know the truth Within the jest, and I could feel it there As well as if it were the folded note I felt between my fingers. I had said Before that I should have to go away And leave him for the season; and his eyes Had shone with well-becoming interest At that intelligence. There was no mist In them that I remember; but I marked An unmistakable self-questioning And a reticence of unassumed regret. The two together made anxiety— Not selfishness, I ventured. I should see No more of him for six or seven months, And I was there to tell him as I might What humorous provision we had made