Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/40

 And divers tales of wonder

I told of how I'd fought and bled

In Injun scrimmages galore,

Till Mrs. Hawthorne quoth, "No more!"

And packed her darlings off to bed

To dream of blood and thunder!

They must have changed a deal since then:

The misses tall and fair,

And those three lusty, handsome men,

Would they be girls and boys again

Were I to happen there,

Down in that spot beside the sea

Where we made such tumultuous glee

In dull autumnal weather?

Ah me! the years go swiftly by,

And yet how fondly I recall

The week when we were children all—

Dear Hawthorne children, you and I—

Just eight of us, together!