HE dreamed away his hours in school; He sat with such an absent air, The master reckoned him a fool, And gave him up in dull despair. When other lads were making hay You'd find him loafing by the stream; He's take a book and slip away, And just pretend to fish . . . and dream. His brothers passed him in the race; They climbed the hill and clutched the prize. He did not seem to heed, his face Was tranquil as the evening skies. He lived apart, he spoke with few; Abstractedly through life he went; Oh, what he dreamed of no one knew, And yet he seemed to be content. I see him now, so old and grey, His eyes with inward vision dim; And though he faltered on the way, Somehow I almost envied him. At last beside his bed I stood: "And is Life done so soon?" he sighed; "It's been so rich, so full, so good, I've loved it all . . ." -- and so he died. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ANGEL, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE MOONRISE IN THE ROCKIES by ELLA (RHOADS) HIGGINSON TO NIGHT by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY MARCH OF THE MEN OF HARLECH by ALEXANDER BOSWELL NEVADA by HELENA GRACE BRADLEY |