XX
Old-Fashioned
Arcturus is his other name,—I’d rather call him star!It’s so unkind of scienceTo go and interfere!
I pull a flower from the woods,—A monster with a glassComputes the stamens in a breath,And has her in a class.
Whereas I took the butterflyAforetime in my hat,He sits erect in cabinets,The clover-bells forgot.
What once was heaven, is zenith now.Where I proposed to goWhen time’s brief masquerade was done,Is mapped, and charted too!
What if the poles should frisk aboutAnd stand upon their heads!I hope I ‘m ready for the worst,Whatever prank betides!
Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven ‘s changed!I hope the children thereWon’t be new-fashioned when I come,And laugh at me, and stare!
I hope the father in the skiesWill lift his little girl,—Old-fashioned, naughty, everything,—Over the stile of pearl!