Rings in his ears and a red sash wore he, He sang her a song and told her a story; “I’ll make ye Queen of the Ocean!” swore he, Hey! Jolly Roger, O. She crept from bed by her sleeping sister; By the old gray mill he met and kissed her. Blue day dawned before they missed her, Hey! Jolly Roger, O. And while they prayed her out of Meeting, Her wild little heart with bliss was beating, As seaward went the lugger fleeting, Hey! Jolly Roger, O. Choose in haste and repent at leisure; A buccaneer life is not all pleasure. He set her ashore with a little treasure, Hey! Jolly Roger, O. Off he went where waves were dashing, Knives were gleaming, cutlasses clashing; And a ship on jagged rocks went crashing. Hey! Jolly Roger, O. Over his bones the tides are sweeping; The only trace of the pirate sleeping Is what he left in the lady’s keeping, Hey! Jolly Roger, O. Two hundred years is his name unspoken, The secret of his hoard unbroken. But a black-browed race wears the rover’s token, Hey! Jolly Roger, O. Sea-blue eyes that gleam and glisten, Lips that sing—and you like to listen— A swaggering song; it might be this one, “Hey! Jolly Roger, O!” THE WALL “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall” ROBERT FROST “Not love a wall!” I sit above the meadow in the glowing fall, Tracing the gray redoubt from square to square That bounds the acres harvest-ripe and fair, And wonder if it’s true? Nay! Ask the sumac and the teeming vine That lean upon the boulders; The crimsoning ivy and the wild woodbine, Whose eager fingers clutch the stony shoulders; The golden-rod, the aster, and the rue. Ask the red squirrel with the chubby cheek Skipping from stone to stone By a quick route, his hidden hoard to seek, Making the little viaduct his own. Look where the woodchuck lifts a cautious head Between the rocks, close by the cabbage bed; The honey-bees have built a secret hive In a forgotten chink; And there a gray cocoon is tucked away, Shrouding a miracle of mauve and pink To wait its Easter Day. The wall with pageantry is all alive.