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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - In The Harbour: At La Chaudeau. (From The French Of Charles Coran)
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At La Chaudeau,--`tis long since then: 
I was young,--my years twice ten; 
All things smiled on the happy boy, 
Dreams of love and songs of joy, 
Azure of heaven and wave below, 
     At La Chaudeau. 

At La Chaudeau I come back old: 
My head is gray, my blood is cold; 
Seeking along the meadow ooze, 
Seeking beside the river Seymouse, 
The days of my spring-time of long ago 
     At La Chaudeau. 

At La Chaudeau nor heart nor brain 
Ever grows old with grief and pain; 
A sweet remembrance keeps off age; 
A tender friendship doth still assuage 
The burden of sorrow that one may know 
     At La Chaudeau. 

At La Chaudeau, had fate decreed 
To limit the wandering life I lead, 
Peradventure I still, forsooth, 
Should have preserved my fresh green youth, 
Under the shadows the hill-tops throw 
     At La Chaudeau. 

At La Chaudeau, live on, my friends, 
Happy to be where God intends; 
And sometimes, by the evening fire, 
Think of him whose sole desire 
Is again to sit in the old chateau 
     At La Chaudeau.
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