Page:Poems Piatt.djvu/134

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120
DOUBLE QUATRAINS.
My boy, through life think how this king of Spain
(Whose name none knows—and so you'll not forget!)
Caught by his palace hearth-flames, not in vain
To ashes burned—for sake of Etiquette!

IX.

SEPTEMBER.

Send back these lonesome lights to Fairyland,[1]
Whose wingéd glimmer of gold lured childish feet,
Borrowed (with bud and bird), you understand,
To keep while moons were warm and dews were sweet.

Hush,—we may have them for a little yet
Before the weird leaf-gathering frost creeps on.
Ah, loveliest time!—wherein we may regret
The fair things going, not the sweet things gone.

  1. Fireflies.