She is too old to look upon such days; It may be best that she is nearly blind; Her life has been all gentle words and ways, The care of children, and things wise and kind. Summers she spent in tending bush and bloom Of quaint, old-fashioned plants about the place, And winters in her dim, high-ceilinged room, Dreams and the firelight mingling in her face. She has known naught, in all her quiet life, Of passions clashing at tremendous grips, The hate and blood and lust of mortal strife, And men who die with curses on their lips. . . . Of all that she has seen, all that life gave, Must she take this, fresh with her, to the grave? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HIGH PLAINS RAG by JAMES GALVIN WAITER IN A CALIFORNIA VIETNAMESE RESTURANT by CLARENCE MAJOR AFTER THE PLEASURE PARTY by HERMAN MELVILLE RUNNING THE BATTERIES by HERMAN MELVILLE IN TIME OF GRIEF by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE FALSTAFF'S SONG by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN |