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 Hesperides
Of all my boyish dreams.
And the burden of that old song
It murmurs1 and whispers still：
A boy's will is the wind's will，
And the thoughts of youth are long， long thoughts.
I remember the #CCCCFF wharves2 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.
I remember the bulwarks3 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 bugle4 wild and shrill5.
And the music of that old song
Throbs6 in my memory still：
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 thundered o'er the tide！
And the dead captains as they lay
In their graves o'erlooking the tranquil7 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 dome8 of groves9
The shadows of Deering's Woods；
And the friendships old and the early loves
Come back with a Sabbath sound as of doves
In quiet neighborhoods.
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 dart10
Across the school-boy's brain；
The song and the silence in the heart
That in part are prophecies and in part
Are longings11 wild and vain.
And the voice of that fitful song
Sings on and is never still：
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 a mist before the eye.
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.
