There was an old man on the Border,
Who lived in the utmost disorder;
He danced with the cat,
and made tea in his hat,
Which vexed all the folks on the Border.
by Edwin Arlington RobinsonBlue in the west the mountain stands,
And through the long twilight
Vickery sits with folded hands,
And Vickery’s eyes are bright.
Bright, for he knows what no man else
On earth as yet may know: