IV
Here’s where the lads of the village cricket:
I was a lad not wide from here:
Couldn’t I whip off the bail from the wicket?
Like an old world those days appear!
Donkey, sheep, geese, and thatched ale-house—I know them!
They are old friends of my halts, and seem,
Somehow, as if kind thanks I owe them:
Juggling don’t hinder the heart’s esteem.