(A. B.) MANY know you now by virtue of that music Known to me, and loved, since you and I were boys, -- Music like heard fire, or hazed with unrelinquished Adolescent dreams of more than man may find: I alone, or I and three or four, remember How, in earlier years when none acclaimed your skill, Shadowed in the morn by sycamore and chestnut, Many a summer through our triple wicket stood; How we pegged the net before the trees had budded; How we played when leaves were blown across the pitch; How we drove the ball far out amidst the orchard, Up the strawberry beds or through the gardener's glass. We alone -- and one, perhaps, who fell in battle -- Still can see with you the games that lengthened out Even until at last the bowler, dim with twilight, Hit the bails, and won: and we, alone, recall How we gathered after round the noisy tea-cups, Tired and glad and young, and knew the world was good. Good it was indeed, for none of us had sorrowed, None so much as feared to hurt another's life: Yet though all is changed, and gone the gracious garden, Gone the scarless mind of many-troubled youth, Count me not with those that whine for what is over, -- All that once was good is good for evermore; All we had of joy endures, a joy within us; All the rest of life is lovelier for those years. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF THE SMOKE by WILLIAM EDWARD BURGHARDT DU BOIS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 79. AL-TAWWAB by EDWIN ARNOLD A STORM IN SUMMER by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE TRUCE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE YOUNG RABBI by E. C. L. BROWNE EPITAPH ON THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SUSAN, COUNTESS OF MONTGOMERY by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |