  WHERE are you going my bright blue eyes, My boy so happy-hearted? You are very young and very wise, And early you have started. Where is the city you’re bound for, lad? Come tell me of it truly; Is it one that is fair, and one that is glad And was it builded newly? Oh, tell me whereaway my lad— Whereaway? The day is fair and the skies are blue, Come rest awhile and listen: By far too great is the world for you, The spires in dreams that glisten Are far away from this quiet place With many a mile between, So rest, blue eyes, for a little space Here where the slopes are green— Oh, tell me whereaway my lad— Whereaway? Oh, dim and vague is the early haze That holds your world of seeming; This day is fairer than other days Only in boyish dreaming,— So do not hasten but pause to tell Why you make such a hurry— Do you want to go, have you pondered well About the cost and worry? Oh, tell me whereaway my lad— Whereaway? Oh, dear blue eyes and brave young heart Why must you turn to leave me? Am I so old that we now must part, Why will you go to grieve me? But he turns away with a smile and nod And will not tell me truly About the place to which he will plod, If old or builded newly; He does not answer “Where, my lad?” Whereaway? |
|
