| |
| 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 thundered o’er the tide! | |
| And the dead 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 neighborhoods. | 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 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 | 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 |
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