A Boy's Song
With lifted feet, hands still,
I am poised, and down the hill
Dart, with heedful mind;
The air goes by in a wind.
Swifter and yet more swift,
Till the heart with a mighty lift
Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry:—
"O bird, see; see, bird, I fly.
"Is this, is this your joy?
O bird, then I, though a boy,
For a golden moment share
Your feathery life in air!"
Say, heart, is there aught like this
In a world that is full of bliss?
'Tis more than skating, bound
Steel-shod to the level ground.
Speed slackens now, I float
Awhile in my airy boat;
Till, when the wheels scarce crawl,
My feet to the treadles fall.
Alas, that the longest hill
Must end in a vale; but still,
Who climbs with toil, wheresoe'er,
Shall find wings waiting there.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20296#sthash.FS6W4hRw.dpuf
Poets.org is one place to search for poems. You can search by poet, poem, topic, and even first line.
This poem appeared on a side menu in a list of poems about childhood. I read it and quick-grabbed my writer's notebook to copy it down.
If you wish to use this poem for your writer's notebook this week, try the following exercise:
Put yourself in the poem.
Go stanza by stanza and see yourself "poised on the hill" "for a golden moment" until your "feet to the treadles fall."
Explore (and remember) the feelings you've had while coursing down a hill, when the peddles circuit too fast for your feet. Capture that moment of open-mouthed exhilaration.
Write it. Share the moment in your words, in your own way.
Happy writing, and happy remembering on this cold winter day.