And memory linger.
Imp-urchin of the budding horn,
Native to Nature's nascent morn,
The same quaint pranks
You played 'midst the Arcadian shade,
By satyrs of to-day are played;
Their nether limbs in "tweeds" arrayed
Not shaggy shanks.
Not cheap tan kids and Kino's best
Can hide the frolic faun confest,