Poems of Pleasure — An Old Fan

(TO KITTY.

HER REVERIE.

) It is soiled and quite passe, Broken too, and out of fashion, But it stirs my heart some way, As I hold it here to-day, With a dead year’s grace and passion.

Oh, my pretty fan!

Precious dream and thrilling strain, Rise up from that vanished season;

Back to heart and nerve and brain Sweeps the joy as keen as pain, Joy that asks no cause or reason.

Oh, my dainty fan!

Hopes that perished in a night Gaze at me like spectral faces;

Grim despair and lost delight, Sorrow long since gone from sight-- All are hiding in these laces.

Oh, my broken fan!

Let us lay the thing away-- I am sadder now and older;

Fled the ball-room and the play-- You have had your foolish day, And the night and life are colder.

Exit--little fan!