That is seated by the sea；

    Often in thought go up and down

    The pleasant streets of that dear old town

    And my youth comes back to me.

    And a verse of a Lapland song

    Is haunting my memory still：

    A boy's will is the wind's will，

    And the thoughts of youth are long， long thoughts.

    I can see the shadowy lines of its trees

    And catch in sudden gleams

    The sheen of the far-surrounding seas

    And islands that were the Hesperides

    Of all my boyish dreams.

    And the burden of that old song

    It murmurs and whispers still：

    A boy's will is the wind's will，

    And the thoughts of youth are long， long thoughts.

    I remember the #CCCCFF wharves and the slips

    And the sea-tides tossing free；

    And Spanish sailors with bearded lips

    And the beauty and mystery of the ships

    And the magic of the sea.

    And the voice of that wayward song

    Is singing and saying still：

    A boy's will is the wind's will，

    And the thoughts of youth are long， long thoughts.

    I remember the bulwarks by the shore

    And the fort upon the hill；

    The sunrise gun with its hollow roar

    The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er

    And the bugle wild and shrill.