And then goodbye to form and desk

And sudden floods of noise

When fifteen minutes' fun and frisk

Make happy girls and boys.

As shrill as swifts in upper air

Was our young shrillness:

'Twas joy of life, 'twas strength to fare

Broke the morning stillness.

I see us flit, as here I sit

With wet-fring'd eyes,

And never rime or reason to it—

Like a maze of flies!

The boys would jump and catch your shoulder

Just for the fun of it—

They tease you worse as you grow older

Because you want none of it.

I hear them call their saucy names—

Mine was Maypole Nance;

I see our windy bickering games,

Half like a dance;

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