The Days of a Man 1888 



A village With the year's end I resumed verse writing, but 

 lort of a more serious vein than in Cornell days. On 

 one of my early visits to France I had noticed in the 

 Index of the Auvergne "Guide Joanne," the alluring 

 name of Viverols, which, however, failed to appear 

 in the text. The charm of the word presumably 

 from vivum, life, and polis, town combined with 

 a bit of mystery, suggested the theme of a Christmas 

 greeting to my wife in anticipation of our contem- 

 plated trip to Europe. The form I chose for the 

 verses was in slight degree an echo of the charming 

 Provencal plaint of the old man who "never went 

 to Carcassonne." 



VIVEROLS x 



Somewhere in France, I know not where, 

 There is a town called "Viverols"; 

 I know not if 'tis near or far, 

 I know not what its features are, 

 I only know 'tis Viverols. 



I know not if its ancient walls 

 By vine and moss be overgrown; 

 I know not if the night owl calls 

 From feudal battlements of stone 

 Inhabited by him alone; 



I know not if mid meadow lands 

 Knee deep in corn stands Viverols; 

 I know not if prosperity 

 Has robbed its life of poesy; 

 That could not be in Viverols, 

 They would not call it Viverols. 



1 At the special request of Edmund Clarence Stedman this poem appeared 

 in his "American Anthology." There the first line, originally written as here 

 given, was changed by me to 



" Beyond the sea, I know not where. " 



n 332 3 



