Behind it there was left a lingering light
Pervading moods of memory like the rays
Pour’d through a prism, wherein the commonest hues
Will spray to uncommon colors when they break.
In truth, I never see to-day a face
Where flash the kindling feelings of a boy,
But back of it, I seem to feel the warmth
Of Elbert’s heart. No school-boy past me bounds
But his dear presence comes to leap the years,
And rush on recollection, with a force