The Friends of his Youth

    Laughter not time destroyed my voice

    And put that crack in it，

    And when the moon‘s pot-bellied

    I get a laughing fit，

    For that old Madge comes down the lane，

    A stone upon her breast，

    And a cloak wrapped about the stone，

    And she can get no rest

    With singing hush and hush-a-bye；

    She that has been wild

    And barren as a breaking wave

    Thinks that the stone‘s a child.

    And Peter that had great affairs

    And was a pushing man

    Shrieks， ‘I am King of the Peacocks，’

    And perches on a stone；

    And then I laugh till tears run down

    And the heart thumps at my side，

    Remembering that her shriek was love

    And that he shrieks from pride.