Sonett-Forum

O, thou art far away from me - dear boy!
So fond affection loves to call thee still;
Recalling hours hat oft my bosom thrill,
When in our native haunts thou wert my joy.

Where now in distant climates dost thou stray?
When in the ardor of thy boyish pride,
Thou wert a faithless truant from my side;
Soon thou return'st to chase my fears away.

How have I marked thee oft, with wonder there,
Climb the tall elm, and prayed and prayed again
Thou would'st such dangerous heights forbear,

And gazed, with upraised eyes, that sued in vain:
Gained the proud height - prompt to descend and smile,
And love the very tear thou chid'st the while.