There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye Cliffs And islands of Winander! -- many a time, At evening, when the stars had just began To move along the edges of the hills, Rising or setting, would he stand alone, Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake; And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth Uplifted, he, as through an instrument, Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, That they might answer him. And they would shout Across the watery vale, and shout again, Responsive to his call, with quivering peals, And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud Redoubled and redoubled; a wild scene Of mirth and jocund din. And, when it chanced That pauses of deep silence mocked his skill, Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise Has carried far into his heart the voice Of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene Would enter unawares into his mind With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received Into the bosom of the steady lake. Fair are the woods, and beauteous is the spot, The vale where he was born: the Church-yard hangs Upon a slope above the village school, And there along that bank when I have passed At evening, I believe, that near his grave A full half-hour together I have stood, Mute - for he died when he was ten years old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CALYPSO WATCHING THE OCEAN by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: THE LEGEND OF RABBI BEN LEVY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW GLOUCESTER MOORS by WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY INDIAN NAMES by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY SHRODON FEAR: THE VU'ST PEART by WILLIAM BARNES PURIFICATION OF YE B. VIRGIN (TO A BASE, A TENOR, AND TWO TREBLES) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |