The mountain traveller, joyous on his way, Looks on the vale he left and calls it fair, Then counts with pride how far he is from there, And still ascends. And, when my fancies stray, Pleased with light memories of a bygone day, I would not have again the things that were. I take their thought like fragrance in the air Of flowers I gathered in my childish play. And thou, my very soul, can it touch thee If I remember her or I forget? Does the sun ask if the white stars be set? Yes, I recall, shall many times, maybe, Recall the dear old boyish days again, The dear old boyish passion. Love, what then? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CHRISTMAS CAROL (1) by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 26 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN ENVOI: DEATH (1) by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) MY DEAREST JULIA by WILLIAM BARNES THE RIVAL CELESTIAL by WILLIAM ROSE BENET PSALM 39, VERSE 5 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |