It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes; The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart that breaks. The heart asks more than life can give, When that is learned, then all is learned; The waves break fold on jewelled fold, But beauty itself is fugitive, It will not hurt me when I am old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DECISION (APRIL 14, 1861) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) ALMANZOR & ALMAHIDE, OR THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA: PART 2. EPILOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN THE DARK-EYED GENTLEMAN by THOMAS HARDY WITHOUT CEREMONY by THOMAS HARDY EPISTLE TO MISS TERESA BLOUNT, ON HER LEAVING THE TOWN by ALEXANDER POPE |