In quiet neighbourhoods. 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 The song and the silence in the heart, And the voice of that fitful song 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; 54 63 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 "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 72 But the native air is pure and sweet, As they balance up and down, And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair, $1 My heart goes back to wander there, 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." 1855 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. CCLXXXV A LAMENT O WORLD! O life! O time! On whose last steps I climb Trembling at that where I had stood before; When will return the glory of your prime? No more-Oh, never more! Out of the day and night A joy has taken flight; Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar, Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight No more-Oh, never more! 1821. 1824. Percy Bysshe Shelley. "THERE ARE GAINS FOR ALL 1880. OUR LOSSES " THERE are gains for all losses, We are stronger, and are better, Something beautiful is vanished, Richard Henry Stoddard. 5 10 15 1848. "IN A DREAR-NIGHTED DECEMBER " IN a drear-nighted December, The north cannot undo them, In a drear-nighted December, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time. Ah! would 't were so with many A gentle girl and boy! Nor numbed sense to steal it, John Keats. 8 "I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER" I REMEMBER, I remember; The house where I was born, I remember, I remember, I remember, I remember, Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh"! To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then, That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow!" 24 |