I STILL keep open Memory's chamber: still Drink from the fount of Youth's perennial stream. It may be in old age an idle dream Of those dear children; but beyond my will They come again, and dead affections thrill My pulseless heart, for now once more they seem To be alive, and wayward fancies teem In my fond brain, and all my senses fill. Come, Alice, leave your books; 't is I who call; Bind up your hair, and teasing -- did you say Kissing -- that kitten? Evey, come with me; Mary, grave darling, take my hand: yes, all! I have three hands to-day! A Holiday. A Holiday, Papa? Woe's me! 't is Memory! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RICHARD BOOTH TO HIS SON JUNIUS BRUTUS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS PALABRAS CARINOSAS (SPANISH AIR) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH HYMN OF THE EARTH by WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING (1817-1901) MARRIAGE A LA MODE: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN SONG: THE STRICKEN DEER by THOMAS MOORE DEAD LOVE by MARY MATHEWS ADAMS |