The mountain traveller, joyous on his way, Looks on the vale he left and calls it fair, Then counts with pride how far he is from there, And still ascends. And, when my fancies stray, Pleased with light memories of a bygone day, I would not have again the things that were. I take their thought like fragrance in the air Of flowers I gathered in my childish play. And thou, my very soul, can it touch thee If I remember her or I forget? Does the sun ask if the white stars be set? Yes, I recall, shall many times, maybe, Recall the dear old boyish days again, The dear old boyish passion. Love, what then? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ULTIMA THULE: DEDICATION by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO THE REV. F.D. MAURICE by ALFRED TENNYSON PEACE ON EARTH by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO A LADY TO ANSWER DIRECTLY WITH YEA OR NAY by THOMAS WYATT THE TOY BALLOONS by EDNA BECKER |