Life's face was fair when careless I No matter; though at last we see The world was wide and life was fair. TEMPLE GARLANDS THERE is a temple in my heart Where moth or rust can never come, A temple swept and set apart, And round about the doors of it Hang garlands that forever last, That gathered once are always sweet; The roses of the Past! A. Mary F. Robinson [1857 TIME LONG PAST LIKE the ghost of a dear friend dead A tone which is now forever fled, A love so sweet it could not last, There were sweet dreams in the night And, was it sadness or delight, Each day a shadow onward cast Which made us wish it yet might last,— That Time long past. "I Remember, I Remember There is regret, almost remorse, For Time long past. 'Tis like a child's beloved corse Beauty is like remembrance, cast 425 Percy Bysshe Shelley [1792-1822] "I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER" I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun He never came a wink too soon I remember, I remember The laburnum on his birthday,- 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, The summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, To know I'm farther off from Heaven Than when I was a boy. Thomas Hood (1799-1845] MY LOST YOUTH OFTEN I think of the beautiful town Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear old town, 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, And the burden of that old song, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the black wharves and the slips, And the sea-tides tossing free; 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: "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, The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er, My Lost Youth 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, 427 And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the sea-fight far away, How it thundered o'er the tide! In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay 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." 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 neighborhoods. 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 Across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part Are longings wild and vain. 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; 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: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." Strange to me are the forms I meet When I visit the dear old town; But the native air is pure and sweet, 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, 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 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." Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [1807-1882] "VOICE OF THE WESTERN WIND" VOICE of the western wind! Thou singest from afar, Rich with the music of a land Where all my memories are; But in thy song I only hear The echo of a tone Star of the western sky! Thou beamest from afar, With lustre caught from eyes I knew Whose orbs were each a star; |