The trees have grown so stout and tall Around my dear old mountain home. The Pine, the Oak, the Maple—all That answer to the winds that roam. About the ivied hall Among their shadows long ago My youth, all passionate and wild, Chased phantoms I have learned to know Could only haunt a dreaming child Unreconciled to woe. With wonder through their branches high, I looked on each mysterious star, And thought, if I were then to die, My soul would rise and soar afar Untrammeled through the sky. Here was my father's fav'rite seat And there was oft my mother's place: The path is worn by many feet, But she will nevermore retrace Her way to this retreat. Time rolls along its ceaseless wave, And years on weary years have past, Since through those trees, so tall and brave, The red October's blighting blast Strewed leaves upon her grave. Now others share her lowly sleep Who then were dear—the old, the young— Still I must toil along the deep, With heart by many sorrows wrung, And watch, and wait, and weep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FEAST OF LIGHTS by EMMA LAZARUS VOICES OF THE AIR by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |