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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
CHLOE TO AMARYLLIS, by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography
First Line: That you are poor, that I grow old
Last Line: The god all ready to our hand.
Subject(s): Memory; Old Age
First Line: That you are poor, that I grow old
Last Line: The god all ready to our hand.
Subject(s): Memory; Old Age
That you are poor, that I grow old,
It matters not. Our battles hold.
The lovely, undisturbèd things
Are left for our rememberings.
Kings' houses; graves out on the downs;
Shop windows in great ancient towns;
The rooks tossed up the rosy sky
Out of the vicarage garden high;
The minster tower poignant with years
That shook the dusk as though with tears.
Scraps of old music dewy-clear
Haunt us each turning of the year;
When fields are coloured like a stone,
A thought of April can atone;
Of cowslip flowers golden small
Under a windy village wall.
That you are poor, and I grow old!
But memories keep; but battles hold:—
The footspace snatched from quaking mire;
From dying dreams the undying fire;
And when we trod the perilous land,
The god all ready to our hand.
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