Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 18071882689. My Lost Youth
OFTEN I think of the beautiful town | |
That is seated by the sea; | |
Often in thought go up and down | |
The pleasant streets of that dear old town, | |
And my youth comes back to me. | 5 |
And a verse of a Lapland song | |
Is haunting my memory still: | |
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, | |
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ | |
I can see the shadowy lines of its trees, | 10 |
And catch, in sudden gleams, | |
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas, | |
And islands that were the Hesperides | |
Of all my boyish dreams. | |
And the burden of that old song, | 15 |
It murmurs and whispers still: | |
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, | |
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ | |
I remember the black wharves and the slips, | |
And the sea-tides tossing free; | 20 |
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips, | |
And the beauty and mystery of the ships, | |
And the magic of the sea. | |
And the voice of that wayward song | |
Is singing and saying still: | 25 |
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, | |
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ | |
I remember the bulwarks by the shore, | |
And the fort upon the hill; | |
The sunrise gun with its hollow roar, | 30 |
The drum-beat repeated o’er and o’er, | |
And the bugle wild and shrill. | |
And the music of that old song | |
Throbs in my memory still: | |
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, | 35 |
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ | |
I remember the sea-fight far away, | |
How it thunder’d o’er the tide! | |
And the dead sea-captains, as they lay | |
In their graves o’erlooking the tranquil bay | 40 |
Where they in battle died. | |
And the sound of that mournful song | |
Goes through me with a thrill: | |
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, | |
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ | 45 |
I can see the breezy dome of groves, | |
The shadows of Deering’s woods; | |
And the friendships old and the early loves | |
Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves | |
In quiet neighbourhoods. | 50 |
And the verse of that sweet old song, | |
It flutters and murmurs still: | |
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, | |
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ | |
I remember the gleams and glooms that dart | 55 |
Across the schoolboy’s brain; | |
The song and the silence in the heart, | |
That in part are prophecies, and in part | |
Are longings wild and vain. | |
And the voice of that fitful song | 60 |
Sings on, and is never still: | |
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, | |
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ | |
There are things of which I may not speak; | |
There are dreams that cannot die; | 65 |
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, | |
And bring a pallor into the cheek, | |
And a mist before the eye. | |
And the words of that fatal song | |
Come over me like a chill: | 70 |
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, | |
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ | |
Strange to me now are the forms I meet | |
When I visit the dear old town; | |
But the native air is pure and sweet, | 75 |
And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street, | |
As they balance up and down, | |
Are singing the beautiful song, | |
Are sighing and whispering still: | |
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, | 80 |
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ | |
And Deering’s woods are fresh and fair, | |
And with joy that is almost pain | |
My heart goes back to wander there, | |
And among the dreams of the days that were | 85 |
I find my lost youth again. | |
And the strange and beautiful song, | |
The groves are repeating it still: | |
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, | |
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ | 90 |