Life's face was fair when careless I No matter; though at last we see It girds our loins and steels our hands 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 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, "Tis like a child's beloved corse Beauty is like remembrance, cast 443 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 That is seated by the sca; 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, "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; And Spanish sailors with bearded lips, 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. 445 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." 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 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. 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; 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 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; |