Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/504

466 Slowly thread them—when behold,

French canary-merchant old

Shepherding his flock of gold

In a low dim-lighted pen

Scann'd of tramps and fishermen!

There a bird, high-colored, fat,

Proud of port, though something squat—

Pursy, play'd-out Philistine—

Dazzled Nelly's youthful eyne.

But, far in, obscure, there stirr'd

On his perch a sprightlier bird,

Courteous-eyed, erect and slim;

And I whisper'd: "Fix on him!"

Home we brought him, young and fair,

Songs to trill in Surrey air.

Here Matthias sang his fill,

Saw the cedars of Pains Hill;

Here he pour'd his little soul,

Heard the murmur of the Mole.

Eight in number now the years

He hath pleased our eyes and ears;

Other favorites he hath known

Go, and now himself is gone.

—Fare thee well, companion dear!

Fare for ever well, nor fear,

Tiny though thou art, to stray

Down the uncompanion'd way!

We without thee, little friend,

Many years have not to spend;

What are left, will hardly be

Better than we spent with thee.