How well I remember the paths that I trod When a boy, with my bait and my light little rod; How eager I went, and how patient I stood, And felt not a bite through the whole afternoon; Wet, hungry, and tired, how, at sundown, I came, The leaf it was green and the verdure the same, But returning I found it so cold and so tame, 'T was December to me, to the wood it was June. I had dwelt where the lovely, the young, and the gay Shed light on my path --but I went on my way, My errand was fruitless, and tedious my stay, And saddened I turned to the home of my youth; Where now is the music, the life, and the glee -- There are smiles, there are dimples, --they are not for me, And my faint, sickening spirit too plainly can see, How warm was my fancy, how cold is the truth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VANTAGE POINT by ROBERT FROST ACCOUNTABILITY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR CORINNA'S GOING A-MAYING by ROBERT HERRICK THE LIGHT OF STARS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW APPARITIONS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PURIFICATION OF YE B. VIRGIN by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |