Forth he came, with a martial tread; He who so well the bugle played, Victor Galbraith!" He looked at the earth, he looked at the sky, And he said, with a steady voice and eye, Victor Galbraith. Twelve fiery tongues flashed straight and red, Falls to the ground, but he is not dead; Victor Galbraith. Three balls are in his breast and brain, The water he drinks has a bloody stain; Victor Galbraith. Forth dart once more those tongues of flame, His soul has gone back to whence it came, When the Sergeant saith, "Victor Galbraith!" Through the mist of the valley damp and OFTEN I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear old town, 9. And my youth comes back to me. Is haunting my memory still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 101 I can see the shadowy lines of its trees, And catch, in sudden gleams, And the burden of that old song, ,,, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the black wharves and the slips,, I And the sea-tides tossing free; And Spanish 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, The sun-rise gun, with its hollow roar, And the music of that old song "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I I remember the sea-fight far away, In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay, And the sound of that mournful song "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, Come back with a sabbath sound, as of doves In quiet neighborhoods." at buk And the verse of that sweet old song, It flutters and murmurs still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the gleams and glooms that dart Across the schoolboy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, And the voice of that fitful song "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die; There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek,! And the words of that fatal song Come over me like a chill: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." Strange to me now are the forms I meet When I visit the dear old town; But the native air is pure and sweet, And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street, As they balance up and down, Are singing the beautiful song, Are sighing and whispering still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair, And with joy that is almost pain My heart goes back to wander there, And among the dreams of the days that were, I find my lost youth again. And the strange and beautiful song, The groves are repeating it still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." |