Ride on the bonnets of the passers-by;
Slide down the chimneys, and fly in between
Warped, weasened doors and well-worn lintel-boards;
Come in at windows and invade small rooms
To chatter archly in old women’s ears,
Making them laugh cracked laughter, deep in the throat,
And weep with sweet, long, memorable thoughts....
They make bent grandfathers recall the day
They played the fool in the sun, under the sky,
And were the deuce with women, and finer chaps