Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/123

 VERY old woman Lives in yon house. The squeak of the cricket, The stir of the mouse, Are all she knows Of the earth and us.

Once she was young, Would dance and play, Like many another Young popinjay; And run to her mother At dusk of day.

And colours bright She delighted in; The fiddle to hear. And to lift her chin, And sing as small As a twittering wren.

But age apace Comes at last to all;