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Poem by John Bruce Norton Harrow IF some good fairy granted me to play A chosen portion of my life again, I would not ask an Oxford hour. The vain Attempt to ape the follies of the day, How soon it palls; while ever fresh and gay Riseth the vision of the school-boy train Who shouted, thoughtless, on dear Harrow’s plain, And clomb the hill when eve was growing gray. O for the careless days, the dreamless nights; The broken bounds, the plunge into the pool; The elastic feet that ne’er the leap refuse; The summer games, the winter’s mimicked fights: O for the guileless friendships formed at school, The first shy whispers of the natural muse! John Bruce Norton John Bruce Norton's other poems: 1200 Views |
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