WILL affection still infold me When the day of life declines, When old age with ruthless rigor Plows my face in furrowed lines; When the eye forgets its seeing, And the hand forgets its skill, And the very words prove rebel To the mind's once kingly will; When the deaf ear, strained to listen, Scarcely hears the opening word, And the unfathomed depths of feeling Are by no swift current stirred; When fond memory, like a limner, Many a line perspective casts, Spreading out our bygone pleasures On the canvas of the Past; When the leaping blood grows sluggish, And the fire of youth has fled; When the friends who now surround us Half are numbered with the dead; When the years appear to shorten, Scarcely leaving us a trace; When old Time with bold approaches Marks his dial on my face; When our present hopes, all gathered, Lie like dead flowers on our track; When the whole of our existence Is one fearful looking back; When each wasted hour of talent, Hardly measured now at all, Sends its witness back to haunt us, Like the writing on the wall; When the ready tongue is palsied, And the form is bowed with care; When our only hope is Heaven, And our only help is prayer; When our idols, broken round us, Fall amid the ranks of men; Until Death uplifts the curtain,— Will thy love endure till then? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN INVITE TO ETERNITY by JOHN CLARE AN OLD WOMAN OF THE ROADS by PADRAIC COLUM TO THE SOUR READER by ROBERT HERRICK A CALIFORNIA CHRISTMAS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: AUGUST by EDMUND SPENSER |