And they who once were pleased to hear my lay,

If yet they live, have drifted far away.

And I recall with long-unfelt desire

The realm of spirits, solemn, still, serene;

My faltering lay, like the Æolian lyre,

Gives wavering tones with many a pause between;

The stern heart glows with youth’s rekindled fire,

Tear follows tear, where long no tear hath been;

The thing I am fades into distance grey;

And the pale Past stands out a clear to-day.

 PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE. 

 Manager of a Strolling Company.—Stage-poet—Merryfellow. 

Manager

Stage-poet

Merryfellow

Manager.

Manager.

Ye twain, in good and evil day

Ye

So oft my solace and my stay,

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