HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
I remember the black wharves and the slips,
And the sea-tides tossing free; And Spanibh sailors with bearded lips, And the beauty and mystery of the ships, And the magic of the sea.
And the voice of that wayward song Is singing and saying still.
- A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'
I remember the bulwarks by the shore,
And the fort upon the hill, The sunrise gun with its hollow roar, The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er, And the bugle wild and shrill. And the music of that old song Throbs in my memory still : C A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'
I remember the sea-fight far away,
How it thundcr'd o'er the tide' And the dead sea-captains, as they lay In their graves overlooking the tranquil bay Where they in battle died.
And the sound of that mournful song Goes through me with a thrill:
- A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.*
I can see the breezy dome of groves, The shadows of Deering's woods; And the friendships old and the early loves
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