And the hum of the smallest of talk—
Somehow, Joe, I thought of the “Ferry,”
And the dance that we had on “The Fork”;
Of Harrison’s barn, with its muster
Of flags festooned over the wall;
Of the candles that shed their soft lustre
And tallow on head-dress and shawl;
Of the steps that we took to one fiddle;
Of the dress of my queer vis-a-vis,
And how I once went down the middle