That frayed-out wristband worries me sore,
It catches—and shows—the dirt.
And as for the collar!!!—I'll bet you a dollar
You've never one clean to your shirt.
Oh! but to breathe the breath
Of old country linen so sweet,
Wherein lavender was spread,
Which was dried on the grass at our feet!
For only one short week
To feel as I used to feel,