Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/32

 He learned betimes the game they played

And into their sport with them went he—

How could the children have been afraid,

Since little they recked who he might be?

They laughed to hear old Father Time

Mumbling that curious nonsense rime

Of "Intry-mintry, cutrey-corn,

Apple-seed and apple-thorn;

Wire, brier, limber, lock,

Twelve geese in a flock;

Some flew east, some flew west,

Some flew over the cuckoo's nest!"

Willie and Bess, Georgie and May,

And joy of summer—where are they?

The grim old man still standeth near

Crooning the song of a far-off year;

And into the winter I come alone,

Cheered by that mournful requiem,

Soothed by the dolorous monotone

That shall count me off as it counted them-

The solemn voice of old Father Time

Chanting the homely nursery rime

He learned of the children a summer morn

When, with "apple-seed and apple-thorn,"

Life was full of the dulcet cheer

That bringeth the grace of heaven anear—

The sound of the little ones hard at play—

Willie and Bess, Georgie and May.