(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...ECHOES: 4. INVICTUS by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 27. THE POWER OF ELOQUENCE IN LOVE by PHILIP AYRES ON THE DEATH OF HER BODY by JAMES KEIR BAXTER BE THOU A BIRD, MY SOUL by A. G. C. THE THISTLE FLOWER by ALICE CARY |