 | The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich |  |
FROM EASTERN SOURCES
I
In youth my hair was black as night,My life as white as driven snow:
As white as snow my hair is now,
And that is black which once was white.
II
No wonder Hafiz wrote such verses, whenHe had the bill of nightingale for pen;
Nor that his lyrics were divine
Whose only ink was tears and wine.
III
A poor dwarf's figure, looming through the denseMists of a mountain, seemed a shape immense,
On seeing which, a giant, in dismay,
Took to his heels and ran away.
| The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich | |