C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
My Lost Youth
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)
O
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.
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.”
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,
It murmurs and whispers still:—
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
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.”
And the fort upon the hill;
The sunrise gun with its hollow roar,
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,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
How it thundered o’er the tide!
And the dead captains as they lay
In their graves, o’erlooking the tranquil bay,
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.”
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.”
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
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 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.”
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 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.”