To meet the sun when he comes out at noon.
There at the foot of yonder nodding tower,
That breathes so bold beneath the azure sky,
He’d form himself of oyster-shells a bower,
And pour his look on all that travelled by.
One noon we missed him, as about we dodged,
He drew his breath, but nothing could we see;
Another came—we had him safely lodged
In the asylum of Colwell Hanley.
Fun. April 1, 1865.