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.