AH! often when coming from labour, When I hear the children play, There rises within me a vision Of the school-house far away -- The old, dark, humble school-house, That stood by the little stream That babbled and splash'd in the sunshine, Or slipp'd into pools to dream. And, again, as I think of my childhood, And its circle of sunny land, Comes the wish to stand by that streamlet, As of old I used to stand -- Just to listen again to its murmurs As I did in that early time, When my life -- before and behind me -- Had the ring of a poet's rhyme: Or to stand on the bridge with the children, And give one long, deep shout, That might sweep from my bosom's chamber The dust of manhood out. For I weary and fret at the knowledge This manhood has brought to me, And forever look back with a longing To the glory that used to be. But vain is that pent-up yearning, And wish for the summer gleam That ran through my young existence, Like the plot through a fairy's dream. It has sunk away as the sunshine May fade from the breast of a hill, And the shadow that now is around me Is misty and drear and chill. But still, when I come from my labour, If I hear the children play, Then my heart goes back to the school-house And the village far away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARAGRAPHS: 9 by HAYDEN CARRUTH GOOD-BYE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELMER BARR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NOTHING WILL CURE THE SICK LION BUT TO EAT AN APE' by MARIANNE MOORE THE YOUNG MYSTIC by LOUIS UNTERMEYER IN THE HOME STRETCH by ROBERT FROST SONNET TO HIS FRIEND R.L. IN PRAISE OF MUSIQUE AND POETRIE by RICHARD BARNFIELD |