Round the old house where lilacs bloomed and died, Armed with the mimic bow my father gave, A boy I marched and dreamed of coast and cave And bears descending from the mountain side; Or down dusk vistas of the arbor, wide, And cool with scent of grapes, I sped to save Fair ladies lost in woods, for I was brave And sought adventure equal to my pride. That house is down; the high hour never came; The boy remembered but in tale and jest, Yet the good cause, O Life, is still the same; I see the days, the scope, of East and West; The shapes I see are of heroic name -- Scorn, poverty, disease -- and this is best. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPILOGUE FROM EMBLEMS OF LOVE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE MOCKING-BIRD by FRANK LEBBY STANTON PESSIMIST AND OPTIMIST by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE FLIGHT OF THE WAR-EAGLE by OBADIAH CYRUS AURINGER SARAH THREENEEDLES (BOSTON, 1698) by KATHARINE LEE BATES S. JOHN BAPTIST by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |