" 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." 15 THE ROPEWALK. In that building, long and low, At the end, an open door; All its spokes are in my brain. As the spinners to the end Downward go and reascend, Gleam the long threads in the sun; While within this brain of mine Cobwebs brighter and more fine Two fair maidens in a swing, Then a booth of mountebanks, Then a homestead among farms, Drawing water from a well; Then an old man in a tower, Ringing loud the noontide hour, While the rope coils round and round Like a serpent at his feet, And again, in swift retreat, Nearly lifts him from the ground. Then within a prison-yard, Faces fixed, and stern, and hard, Laughter and indecent mirth; Ah! it is the gallows-tree! Breath of Christian charity, Blow, and sweep it from the earth! Then a school-boy, with his kite And an eager, upward look; Ships rejoicing in the breeze, Wrecks that float o'er unknown seas, Anchors dragged through faithless sand; Sea-fog drifting overhead, And, with lessening line and lead, All these scenes do I behold, In that building long and low; And the spinners backward go. |