He added:—
"I find the song in my scrapbook, and send it to save you the trouble of hunting for it.
"H. W. L."
It was first reprinted in "The Waif," a thin volume of selections published by Longfellow many years ago. "The Waif" and "The Estray" preserved many a lovely poem from oblivion, till it should find its place at length among its fellows.
Already in 1875 we find Longfellow at work upon his latest collection of poems, which he called "Poems of Places." It was a much more laborious and unrewarding occupation than he had intended, and he was sometimes weary of his self-imposed task. He wrote at this period:— No politician ever sought for Places with half the zeal that I do. Friend and Foe alike have to give Place to
Yours truly, H. W. L.
Again he says:—
"What evil demon moved me to make this collection of 'Poems of Places'? Could I have foreseen the time it would take, and the worry and annoyance it would bring with it, I never would have undertaken it. The worst of it is, I have to write pieces now and then to fill up gaps."
More and more his old friends grew dear to him as the years passed and "the goddess Neuralgia," as he called his malady, kept him chiefly at home. He wrote in 1877:—
"When are you coming back from your Cottage on the Cliffs? The trees on the Common and the fountains are calling for you.