Explore "At La Chaudeau" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
By Xavier Marmier
At La Chaudeau, -- 't is long since then: / I was young, -- my years twice ten; / All things smiled on the happy boy, / Dreams of love and songs of joy, / Azure of heaven and wave below, / At La Chaudeau.
At La Chaudeau I come back old: / My head is gray, my blood is cold; / Seeking along the meadow ooze, / Seeking beside the river Seymouse, / The days of my spring-time of long ago / At La Chaudeau.
At La Chaudeau nor heart nor brain / Ever grows old with grief and pain; / A sweet remembrance keeps off age; / A tender friendship doth still assuage / The burden of sorrow that one may know / At La Chaudeau.
At La Chaudeau, had fate decreed / To limit the wandering life I lead, / Peradventure I still, forsooth, / Should have preserved my fresh green youth, / Under the shadows the hill-tops throw / At La Chaudeau.
At La Chaudeau, live on, my friends, / Happy to be where God intends; / And sometimes, by the evening fire, / Think of him whose sole desire / Is again to sit in the old chateau / At La Chaudeau.