The Free lance. (State College, Pa.) 1887-1904, February 01, 1897, Image 10

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    O, rich the breath of October days,
Where woods are brown and gold,
When childhood strays thro’ the wild wood ways,
For the nuts in the echoing world;
And rich the play upon leaf and spray
Of the colors so gaily piled,
But, O, richer far than an autumn day
Is the laugh of a happy child.
DOWN THE VISTA OF YEARS.
“ Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs have sung,
Puppet to a father’s threat, servile to a shrewish tongue.”
’Twas a summer evening long, yes, so long ago as 1512, but
time has made little impression on our hardy English race and.
the merry England of to-day is the same as the Merrie England
of bluff King Hal. I'he same hills meet our view, the same sun
shines on us, the same smell of new-mown hay greets us to-day
as greeted wanderers along the hedged lanes of Norfolk four
hundred years ago. After all, how small is life and how little
effect has time on man.
“ We think the same thoughts that our fathers did think,”
And so, perchance, we may guess the thoughts of these two
under the yew tree. This man and maid of long ago. She is
tall and slender, with a beautiful oval face and a wreath of black
hair. He is also tall, but with light, clustering ringlets and a face,
which, like all the Percys, lacked firmness,
“ And so, Mistress Anne, thou art going to London to see the
Queen, mayhap thou wilt forget thy Percy among the court gal
lants who will surround thee. ’ ’
“ Nay, nay, dear love,” quoth she, " i’ faith ’twere wrong to
doubt me when thou hast mine own plighted troth. ’Tis thou
who art fickle, and thy father would faiu have thee marry my Lord
of Shrewsberry’s daughter, the Lady Grace. Nay, do not fear
thy Anne, for Anne Bullen wilt ever remember thee. ’ ’
“And, by my faith, thy Percy wilt ever be true to thee; the
Lady Grace I will not marry; nay, not if his majesty the king
should command it. Sweet, take this ring, by it I swear that tho*
thou and I be far apart yet we shall be as heart to heart, and
when thy sweet eyes resteth on it mayhap it will tell thee that thy
Percy will ever be thine. ’ ’
Words earnestly spoken and meant.
The Free Lance.
[February,