“Yet, even ’mid merry boyhood’s tricks and scapes”
from Sonnets, Second Series
XXX
Yet, even ‘mid merry boyhood’s tricks and scapes,
Early my heart a deeper lesson learnt;
Wandering alone by many a mile burnt
Black woodside, that but the snow-flake decks and drapes.
And I have stood beneath Canadian sky,
In utter solitudes, where the cricket’s cry
Appals the heart, and fear takes visible shapes;
And on Long Island’s void and isolate capes
Heard the sea break like iron bars: and still,
In all, I seemed to hear the same deep dirge;
Borne in the wind, the insect’s tiny trill,
And crash and jangle of the shaking surge;
And knew not what they meant,—prophetic woe?
Dim bodings, wherefore? Now, indeed, I know!
Source: American Poetry: The Nineteenth Century (The Library of America, 1993)