No more in noontide sun I bask;
My authorship's an endless task,
My head's ne'er out of school:
My heart is pain'd with scorn and slight,
I have too many foes to fight,
And friends grown strangely cool!


VIII.

The very chum that shared my cake
Holds out so cold a hand to shake,
It makes me shrink and sigh:--
On this I will not dwell and hang,--
The changeling would not feel a pang
Though these should meet his eye!


IX.

No skies so blue or so serene
As then;--no leaves look half so green
As clothed the playground tree!
All things I loved are altered so,
Nor does it ease my heart to know
That change resides in me!


X.