Feels an unquiet pleasure, and forgets To listen for his fellows. He will grow Fond of the early star, and lie awake Gazing with many thoughts upon the moon, And lose himself in the deep chamber'd sky With his untaught philosophies. It breeds Sadness in older hearts, but not in his; And he goes merrier to his play, and shouts Louder the joyous call--but it will sink Into his memory like his mother's prayer, For after years to brood on. Cheerful thoughts Came to the homesick boy as he became Wakeful to beauty in the summer's change, And he came oftener to our noisy play, Cheering us on with his delightful shout Over the hills, and giving interest With his keen spirit to the boyish game. We loved him for his carelessness of himself, And his perpetual mirth, and tho' he stole Sometimes away into the woods alone, And wandered unaccompanied when the night Was beautiful, he was our idol still, And we have not forgotten him, tho' time Has blotted many a pleasant memory Of boyhood out, and we are wearing old With the unplayfulness of this grown up world. IDLENESS. The rain is playing its soft pleasant tune Fitfully on the skylight, and the shade Of the fast flying clouds across my book Passes with delicate change. My merry fire Sings cheerfully to itself; my musing cat Purrs as she wakes from her unquiet sleep, And looks into my face as if she felt Like me the gentle influence of the rain. Here have I sat since morn, reading sometimes, And sometimes listening to the faster fall Of the large drops, or rising with the stir Of an unbidden thought, have walked awhile With the slow steps of indolence, my room, And then sat down composedly again To my quaint book of olden poetry. It is a kind of idleness, I know; And I am said to be an idle man-- And it is very true. I love to go Out in the pleasant sun, and let my eye Rest on the human faces that pass by, Each with its gay or busy interest; And then I muse upon their lot, and read Many a lesson in their changeful cast, And so grow kind of heart, as if the sight Of human beings were humanity. And I am better after it, and go More gratefully to my rest, and feel a love Stirring my heart to every living thing, And my low prayer has more humility, And I sink lightlier to my dreams--and this, 'Tis very true, is only idleness!