And we went visiting, “me and you,”
Out to Old Aunt Mary’s?
It all comes back so clear to-day!
Though I am as bald as you are grey—
Out by the barn-lot, and down the lane,
We patter along in the dust again,
As light as the tips of the drops of the rain,
Out to Old Aunt Mary’s!
We cross the pasture, and through the wood
Where the old grey snag of the poplar stood,