"Not to be tuneless in old age!" Ah! surely blest his pilgrimage, Who, in his winter's snow, Still sings with note as sweet and clear As in the morning of the year When the first violets blow! Blest! -- but more blest, whom summer's heat, Whom spring's impulsive stir and beat, Have taught no feverish lure; Whose Muse, benignant and serene, Still keeps his autumn chaplet green Because his verse is pure! Lie calm, O white and laureate head! Lie calm, O Dead, that art not dead, Since from the voiceless grave Thy voice shall speak to old and young While song yet speaks our English tongue By Charles' or Thamis' wave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DESERTED GARDEN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 4. LOVESIGHT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI BRUCE: HOW THE BRUCE CROSSED LOCH LOMOND by JOHN BARBOUR MEARY WEDDED by WILLIAM BARNES UNDER THE WHARF by IDA COLE BARTLATT |