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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
CONRAD AT TWILIGHT, by JOHN CROWE RANSOM Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Conrad, conrad, aren't you old Last Line: But conrad has not answered a word. Subject(s): Conrad, Joseph (1857-1924) | |||
Conrad, Conrad, aren't you old To sit so late in a mouldy garden? And I think Conrad knows it well, Nursing his knees, too rheumy and cold To warm the wrath of a Forest of Arden. Neuralgia in the back of his neck, His lungs filling with such miasma, His feet dipping in leafage and muck: Conrad! you've forgotten asthma. Conrad's house has thick red walls And chips on Conrad's hearth are blazing, Slippers and pipe and tea are served, Anchovy toast, Conrad! 'Tis pleasing, Still Conrad's back is not uncurved, And here's an autumn on him, teasing. Autumn days in our section Are the most used-up thing on earth, (Or in the waters under the earth). Having no more color nor predilection Than cornstalks too wet for the fire, A ribbon rotting on the byre, A man's face as weathered as straw By the summer's flare and the winter's flaw. Conrad, rise up and steel your soul And smite an anvil, draw a sword (See William James and Henry Ford) And point you to a mightier goal! But Conrad has not answered a word. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |
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