A dozen, I said � well, the figures may
Up to a cherished score or so,
But six of the number are held, I know,
In that little elipse of ebony.
Then my pipe went out and my lamp burned
And the current of thought began to flow,
And their faces and forms came trooping
In their earlier bloom and younger glow,
In the semblance and dress of long ago,
When the first began to be dear.
For more than half a score of years,
With their freight of hope and dole of fears,
With joys that soften and care that sears,
Have vanished in smiles or lingered in tears
Since I joined their Christmas cheer.
�Twas years before Charlie, that Ottignon
The gymnast and actor* as chance gave to
* Honeywell. He is, or was, a frequenter
of Ottignon�s Gymnasium and a member of an
amateur Dramatic society.