Painting On Portland Maine Building — HDR Image by kenne
Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
Is haunting my memory still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,
And catch, in sudden gleams,
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,
And islands that were the Hersperides
Of all my boyish dreams.
And the burden of that old song,
It murmurs and whispers still:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
— from My Lost Youth by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(Born February 27, 1807, Portland, which at the time was in Massachusetts.)
![[The banjo lesson] (LOC)](https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/52086683051_d0df0a3771_s.jpg "[The banjo lesson] (LOC)")
Becoming is Superior to Being 
She is all of that and then some.
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Happy to read this today and to discover that Robert Frost named his first poetry collection (A Boy’s Will) out of the line in this Longfellow poem.
Incidentally, I’ve been to most part of the United States, at least briefly, except for Maine and the upper Rocky Mountain States.
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I love the line, “A boy’s will is the wind’s will.” I have been to all but four states, Idaho, Montana, and the Dakotas.
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Nice.
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