THE FIDDLER
There’s a fiddler in the street,
And the children all are dancing:
Two dozen lightsome feet
Springing and prancing.
Pleasure he gives to you,
Dance then, and spare not!
For the poor fiddler’s due,
Know not and care not.
While you are prancing,
Let the fiddler play.
When you’re tired of dancing
He may go away.
THE FIRST MEETING
Last night for the first time, O Heart’s Delight,
I held your hand a moment in my own,
The dearest moment which my soul has known,
Since I beheld and loved you at first sight.
I left you, and I wandered in the night,
Under the rain, beside the ocean’s moan.
All was black dark, but in the north alone
There was a glimmer of the Northern Light.
My heart was singing like a happy bird,
Glad of the present, and from forethought free,
Save for one note amid its music heard:
God grant, whatever end of this may be,
That when the tale is told, the final word
May be of peace and benison to thee.
A CRITICISM OF CRITICS
How often have the critics, trained
To look upon the sky
Through telescopes securely chained,
Forgot the naked eye.