XX.

SATURDAY AFTERNOON.

From all the jails the boys and girls Ecstatically leap, -- Beloved, only afternoon That prison doesn't keep.

They storm the earth and stun the air, A mob of solid bliss. Alas! that frowns could lie in wait For such a foe as this!

Few get enough, -- enough is one; To that ethereal throng Have not each one of us the right To stealthily belong?