 | The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes |  |
THE LOST BOY
How sweet to boyhood's glowing pulse
The sleep that languid summer yields,
In the still bosom of the wild,
Or in the flowery fields!
The sleep that languid summer yields,
In the still bosom of the wild,
Or in the flowery fields!
So art thou slumbering, lonely boy—
But ah! how little deemest thou
The hungry felon of the wood
Is glaring on thee now!
But ah! how little deemest thou
The hungry felon of the wood
Is glaring on thee now!
He crept along the tangled glen,
He panted up the rocky steep,
He stands and howls above thy head,
And thou art still asleep!
He panted up the rocky steep,
He stands and howls above thy head,
And thou art still asleep!
No trouble mars thy peaceful dream;
And though the arrow, winged with death,
Goes glancing near thy thoughtless heart,
Thou heedest not its breath.
And though the arrow, winged with death,
Goes glancing near thy thoughtless heart,
Thou heedest not its breath.
Sleep on! the danger all is past,
The watch-dog, roused, defends thy breast,
And well the savage prowler knows
He may not break thy rest!
The watch-dog, roused, defends thy breast,
And well the savage prowler knows
He may not break thy rest!
| The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes | |