Across the fields of yesterday He sometimes comes to me, A little lad just back from play -- The lad I used to be. And yet he smiles so wistfully Once he has crept within, I wonder if he hopes to see The man I might have been. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ASOLANDO: NOW by ROBERT BROWNING A SONNET, TO THE NOBLE LADY, THE LADY MARY WROTH by BEN JONSON PHILLIS INAMOROTA by LANCELOT ANDREWES A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 3 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE by ROBERT BURNS BRISTOWE TRAGEDIE: OR, THE DEATH OF SYR CHARLES BAWDIN by THOMAS CHATTERTON LINES TO A JEWISH CHILD by C. D. TO THE MEMORY OF HENRY KIRK WHITE by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON |