The Old School-House

I PASSED it yesterday again,The school-house by the river,Where you and I were children, Jane,And used to glow and shiverIn heats of June, December's frost;And where, in rainy weather,The swollen roadside brook we crossedSo many times together.

I felt the trickle of the rainFrom your wet ringlets dripping;I caught your blue eye's twinkle, Jane,When we were nearly slipping;And thought, while you in fear and gleeWere clinging to my shoulder,"O, will she trust herself to me,When we are ten years older?"

For I was full of visions vain,—The boy's romantic hunger.You were the whole school's darling, Jane,And many summers younger.Your head a cherub's used to look,With sunbeams on it lying,Bent downward to your spelling-book,For long and hard words prying.

The mountains through the window-paneShowered over you their glory.The awkward farm-boy loved you, Jane:You know the old, old story.I never watch the sunset nowUpon those misty ranges,But your bright lips, and cheek, and brow,Gleam out of all its changes.

I wonder if you see that chainOn memory's dim horizon;There 's not a lovelier picture, Jane,To rest even your sweet eyes on.The Haystacks each an airy tent,The Notch a gate of splendor;And river, sky, and mountains blentIn twilight radiance tender.

I wonder,—with a flitting pain,—If thoughts of me returning,Are mingled with the mountains, Jane:I stifle down that yearning.—A rich man's wife, on you no claimHave I, lost dreams to rally;Yet Pemigewasset sings your nameAlong its winding valley:

And once I hoped that for us twainMight fall one calm life-closing;That Campton hills might guard us, Jane,In one green grave reposing.They say the old man's heart is rock:You never thought so, never!And, loving you alone, I lockThe school-house door forever!