A COMMON EXPERIENCE 



spring is a quagmire among rotting 

 stumps. The rough nakedness of the 

 hillside is clad only with thistles and 

 fireweed, with here and there a patch of 

 blanched dead leaves, dross of the old gold 

 of the beech's ancient autumnal glory. 



Of all he hoped for nothing is realized, 

 and he finds only woful change, irrep- 

 arable loss. His heart heavy with sor- 

 row and bursting with impotent wrath 

 against the ruthless spoiler, he turns his 

 back forever on the desolated scene of 

 his boyhood's sports. 



Alas ! That one should ever attempt 

 to retouch the time-faded but beautiful 

 pictures that the memory holds. 

 177 



