Each eve the shadows eastward fall, Life's echoes linger over all; Exultant birds crouch down to sleep, And all is wrapped in myst'ry deep. Each morn the shadows reappear, The new-born day brings good cheer; In ev'ry clime is toil begun By ev'ry race beneath the sun. Each night, at rest; each morn, at work, (Except by those who daily shirk); Death ends it all—strange though, it seem; We ask ourselves: "What does Life mean?" I'm now fifteen: my shadow falls— ("Ninety degrees!" the Dial calls). Childhood is spent; I've just begun The race of life which I must run. Thirty today: the hilltop's reached; My shadow's temporar'ly ceased; I look around from east to west; I'm filled with hope, I cannot rest. The Dial calls across the span: "This is life's noon; take heed, young man: "Look yonder o'er the glitt'ring lees, "Before you lies one-half your degrees!" An inclined plane before me lies; I'm starting down it: how time flies! Just forty-five: the remainder's least; My shadow falls toward the east. Could I retrace my steps right now, God knows I'd do it anyhow; But destiny forbids retreat; I dare not turn: 'twould mean defeat. My three-score years have now passed by; Faint shadows flicker 'gainst life's sky: Still tott'ring on to'rd pastures green, I ask myself: "What does Life mean?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOTHER IN THE HOUSE by HERMANN HAGEDORN EPITAPH ON MR. JOHN DEANE, OF NEW COLLEGE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) VISTAS OF LABOR: 3. IN A SWEATSHOP by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON DON JUAN: CANTO 3 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON FASHION'S FOLLY by S. W. CHAMBERLAIN |