MEMORIAL SONNET

This is the house where little Aldrich read

The early pages of Life's wonder-book:

With boyish pleasure, in this ingle-nook

He watched the drift-wood fire of Fancy spread

Bright colours on the pictures, blue and red:

Boy-like he skipped the longer words, and took

His happy way, with searching, dreamful look

Among the deeper things more simply said.

Then, came his turn to write: and still the flame

Of Fancy played through all the tales he told,

And still he won the laurelled poet's fame

With simple words wrought into rhymes of gold.

Look, here's the face to which this house is frame,—

A man too wise to let his heart grow old!