Explore "Poems: THE POET TO HIS CHILDHOOD" by Alice Meynell on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In my thought I see you stand with a path on either hand, / -- Hills that look into the sun, and there a river'd meadow-land. / And your lost voice with the things that it decreed across me thrills, / When you thought, and chose the hills.
'If it prove a life of pain, greater have I judged the gain. / With a singing soul for music's sake, I climb and meet the rain, / And I choose, whilst I am calm, my thought and labouring to be / Unconsoled by sympathy.'