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Poetry Archives

A continuing selection of classic and contemporary poems.

Sometimes

Thomas S. Jones, Jr.

Across the fields of yesterday
 He sometimes comes to me,
A little lad just back from play—
 The lad I used to be.

And yet he smiles so wistfully
 Once he has crept within,
I wonder if he hopes to see
 The man I might have been.
Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From The Little Book of Modern Verse | 1913
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