My Lost Youth Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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,
         And my youth comes back to me.
                  And a verse of a Lapland song
                  Is haunting my memory still:
         "A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,
         And catch, in sudden gleams,
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,
And islands that were the Hersperides
         Of all my boyish dreams.
                  And the burden of that old song,
                  It murmurs and whispers still:
         "A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I remember the black wharves and the slips,
         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."