MY prow is tending toward the west, Old voices growing faint, dear faces dim, And all that I have loved the best Far back upon the waste of memory swim. My old world disappears: Few hopes and many fears Accompany me. But from the distance fair A sound of birds, a glimpse of pleasant skies, A scent of fragrant air, All soothingly arise In cooing voice, sweet breath, and merry eyes Of grandson on my knee. And ere my sails be furled, Kind Lord, I pray Thou let me live a day In my new world. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RAINY SEASON by CLARENCE MAJOR UPLANDS IN MAY by CARL SANDBURG THE UNDERGRADUATE KILLED IN BATTLE; OXFORD, 1915 by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE BEAUTIFUL by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SONNET: ADDRESSED TO HAYDON (1) by JOHN KEATS FITZ-GREENE HALLECK, AT THE UNVEILING OF HIS STATUE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |