The trees, the wind, the golden day.

At last they knew that they had died

When they heard music in that land,

And someone there stole forth a hand

TO A YOUNG BUT LEARNED FRIEND TO ABANDON ARCHAEOLOGY FOR THE MOMENT, AND

PLAY ONCE MORE WITH HIS NEGLECTED MUSE.

In those good days when we were young and wise,

You spake to music, you with the thoughtful eyes,