Thoughts of Home

Here are a few lines from a poem by Thomas Hood I included in my book "Echoes of My Wyoming Boyhood."  I hope I am not infringing copyrights.  I thought the poem fit in nicely with the photo below of the little brown house where I spent the first nine years of my life.

I Remember, I Remember

I remember, I remember,

The house where I was born,

The little window where the sun

Came peeping in at morn:

He never came a wink too soon,

Nor brought too long a day;

But now, I often wish the night

Had borne my breath away.

. . .

I remember, I remember,

Where I used to swing,

And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then,

That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow!

. . .