 | A merry-go-round of song |  |
130
THE LAPSE OF MEMORY
He leaned against a Devon oak,
His empty sack across his shoulder.
“This game is getting past a joke!
I feel at least a century older.
But yet, if I have missed a child,
My heart will never know content—
Great Chimney! (here he looked quite wild)
There's little Danny Dent!
Without a doubt
My memory is wearing out.
His empty sack across his shoulder.
“This game is getting past a joke!
I feel at least a century older.
But yet, if I have missed a child,
My heart will never know content—
Great Chimney! (here he looked quite wild)
There's little Danny Dent!
Without a doubt
My memory is wearing out.
“What bitter, bitter tears will flock
And fall if Danny's Day is joyless!
Yet here I stand at five o'clock,
Bone-weary, famishing, and toyless.
Come, Silverwig! Come, Fingerquick!
Though half asleep and fairly spent,
Perform anew the famous trick
For little Danny Dent.
It's plain to see
I'm not the man I used to be.”
And fall if Danny's Day is joyless!
Yet here I stand at five o'clock,
Bone-weary, famishing, and toyless.
Come, Silverwig! Come, Fingerquick!
Though half asleep and fairly spent,
Perform anew the famous trick
For little Danny Dent.
It's plain to see
I'm not the man I used to be.”
The sack he flung upon the ground
Stood up, without a hand to guide it,
And wingless toys from all around
Flew fast as birds, and dropped inside it!
“Neat Fingerquick! Good Silverwig!”
Cried Santa Claus in merriment.
“Here's what will make your stocking big
And bulging, Danny Dent!
Without a doubt
My poor old head is wearing out.”
Stood up, without a hand to guide it,
And wingless toys from all around
Flew fast as birds, and dropped inside it!
131
Cried Santa Claus in merriment.
“Here's what will make your stocking big
And bulging, Danny Dent!
Without a doubt
My poor old head is wearing out.”
The furious storm could not subdue,
The slanted hailstones could not blind him;
However rapidly he flew,
His sack flew just as fast behind him.
Whiz! He was over Salisbury Plain.
Whiz! He was crossing middle Kent.
In Deal he stroked your counterpane
And kissed you, Danny Dent!
His heart, you see,
Is where it always used to be.
The slanted hailstones could not blind him;
However rapidly he flew,
His sack flew just as fast behind him.
Whiz! He was over Salisbury Plain.
Whiz! He was crossing middle Kent.
In Deal he stroked your counterpane
And kissed you, Danny Dent!
His heart, you see,
Is where it always used to be.
| A merry-go-round of song | |