THIS man that at the wheatstack side Sits drinking of the twilight air, This man's my friend, in him's my guide And guard against the traps of care. His life now past meridian mark One can but say is blossoming yet, His summer day smiles back the dark, His sun seems nearer rise than set. In lusty youth when surging blood With foam and din bemuses most, Leander-like he rode the flood, And strongly came to manhood's coast. Since, with a sturdy steady tread, He sowed and stored himself good grain, And glowing yet he bows his head With plough and scythe across the plain. And like the north star stablished true He cheers and aids my asking eye; To see him at his door anew Is like a sign shown in the sky. With all his calm he's eager still, New dreams in his old vision thrive, He seizes chance on dale and hill, And all his life has been alive. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEREDITY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE ONE GRAY HAIR by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR ANNABEL LEE by EDGAR ALLAN POE MAIDEN MELANCHOLY by RAINER MARIA RILKE THE BIRTHDAY CROWN by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1824-1911) IN THE HOSPITAL by PATRICK JOHN MCALISTER ANDERSON THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 7. LESSON FOR THE PROUD by T. BAKER TO A FATHER, ON THE DEATH OF HIS ONLY CHILD by BERNARD BARTON |