Jack-In-The-Box (Grandfather, Musing.)

In childish days! O memory, / You bring such curious things to me! -- / Laughs to the lip -- tears to the eye, / In looking on the gifts that lie / Like broken playthings scattered o'er / Imagination's nursery floor!

Did these old hands once click the key / That let "Jack's" box-lid upward fly, / And that blear-eyed, fur-whiskered elf / Leap, as though frightened at himself, / And quiveringly lean and stare / At me, his jailer, laughing there?

A child then! Now -- I only know / They call me very old; and so / They will not let me have my way, -- / But uselessly I sit all day / Here by the chimney-jamb, and poke / The lazy fire, and smoke and smoke, / And watch the wreaths swoop up the flue, / And chuckle -- ay, I often do -- / Seeing again, all vividly, / Jack-in-the-box leap, as in glee / To see how much he looks like me!

. They talk. I can't hear what they say -- / But I am glad, clean through and through / Sometimes, in fancying that they / Are saying, "Sweet, that fancy strays / In age back to our childish days! "