I sat an hour to-day, John, Beside the old brook-stream, -- Where we were school-boys in old time, When manhood was a dream; The brook is choked with fallen leaves, The pond is dried away, I scarce believe that you would know The dear old place to-day. The school-house is no more, John, -- Beneath our locust-trees, The wild rose by the window's side No more waves in the breeze; The scattered stones look desolate; The sod they rested on Has been plowed up by stranger hands, Since you and I were gone. The chestnut-tree is dead, John -- And what is sadder now, The grapevine of that same old swing Hangs on the withered bough. I read our names upon the bark, And found the pebbles rare Laid up beneath the hollow side, As we piled them there. Beneath the grass-grown bank, John, -- I looked for our old spring, That bubbled down the alder-path Three paces from the swing; The rushes grow upon the brink, The pool is black and bare, And not a fool for many a day, It seems, has trodden there. I took the old blind road, John, That wandered up the hill, -- 'Tis darker that it used to be, And seems so lone and still; The birds yet sing upon the boughs Where once the sweet grapes hung, But not a voice of human kind Where all our voices rung. I sat me on the fence, John, That lies as in old time, The same half-panel in the path We used so oft to climb, -- And though how, o'er the bars of life, Our playmates had passed on, And left me counting on the spot The faces that were gone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JASPER by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON A WINTER'S NIGHT by ROBERT FROST MIDSUMMER BIRDS by ROBERT FROST COSMOPOLITE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON OWL AGAINST ROBIN by SIDNEY LANIER BEFORE DAWN; SONNET by AMY LOWELL |