TO-DAY, my friend is seventy-five; He tells his tale with no regret; His brave old eyes are steadfast yet, His heart the lightest heart alive. He sees behind him green and wide The pathway of his pilgrim years; He sees the shore, and dreadless hears The whisper of the creeping tide. For out of all his days, not one Has passed and left its unlaid ghost To seek a light for ever lost, Or wail a deed for ever done. So for reward of life-long truth He lives again, as good men can, Redoubling his allotted span With memories of a stainless youth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE AT THE SHRINE by RICHARD KENDALL MUNKITTRICK MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 12 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE HAYSWATER BOAT by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE HAPPY DAYS WHEN I WER YOUNG by WILLIAM BARNES NIGHT by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN THE JOB by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. TO HIS MUCH HONOURED GODFATHER, MASTER A. B. by ABRAHAM COWLEY |