Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/109

 Our eyes looked always at the hills— The Holyoke hills that seemed to stand Between us boys and pictured joys Of conquest in a further land! Ah, how we coveted the time When we should leave this prosy place And work our wills beyond those hills, And meet creation face to face!

You must have heard our childish talk— Perhaps our prattle gave you pain; For then, old friend, you seemed to bend Your kindly arms about us twain. It might have been the wind that sighed, And yet I thought I heard you say: "Seek not the ills beyond those hills— Oh, stay with me, my children, stay!"

See, I've come back; the boy you knew Is wiser, older, sadder grown; I come once more, just as of yore— I come, but see! I come alone! The memory of a brother's love, Of blighted hopes, I bring with me, And here I lay my heart to-day— A weary heart, O bell-flower tree!