 | [Poems by Howells in] Poems of two friends |  |
90
THE OLD BOUQUET.
Such odd things gather on one's hands!
I found an old bouquet
(The buds all faded whity-brown)
Among forgotten things to-day.
I found an old bouquet
(The buds all faded whity-brown)
Among forgotten things to-day.
I recollect 'twas Clarence Young
That gave it, long ago—
O, years and years, my child—how long,
Ah me! I don't exactly know.
That gave it, long ago—
O, years and years, my child—how long,
Ah me! I don't exactly know.
We quarreled—we were foolish both—
He married Susan Gray,
Who died last summer—and I heard
That he was buried yesterday.
He married Susan Gray,
Who died last summer—and I heard
That he was buried yesterday.
There's something blurs my glasses, dear;
I wish you'd read to me
These scribbled lines I found among
The faded flowers. Can you see?
I wish you'd read to me
These scribbled lines I found among
The faded flowers. Can you see?
Within this golden-hearted rose
(Sad in their sweet eclipse)
I send Regrets. Ah, smile them free
To fly in kisses to your lips.
(Sad in their sweet eclipse)
I send Regrets. Ah, smile them free
To fly in kisses to your lips.
91
A silly rhyme! I never knew
What there the boy had writ—
Alas! I smiled not!—I'm too old,
And you too young, to talk of it!
What there the boy had writ—
Alas! I smiled not!—I'm too old,
And you too young, to talk of it!
Ah me! we quarreled. We were fools.
He married Susan Gray,
Who died last summer—and I heard
That he was buried yesterday.
He married Susan Gray,
Who died last summer—and I heard
That he was buried yesterday.
| [Poems by Howells in] Poems of two friends | |