Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, GROWING OLD, by FRANCIS LEDWIDGE



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GROWING OLD, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: We'll fill a provence bowl and pledge us deep
Last Line: We're growing odd and old, my heart and I.
Subject(s): Aging


We'll fill a Provence bowl and pledge us deep
The memory of the far ones, and between
The soothing pipes in heavy-lidded sleep
Perhaps we'll dream the things that once had been.
'Tis only noon and yet too soon to die,
Yet we are growing old, my heart and I.

A hundred books are ready in my head
To open out where Beauty bent a leaf,
What do we want with beauty? We are wed
Like ancient Proserpine to dismal grief,
And we are changing with the hours that fly,
And growing odd and old, my heart and I.

Across a bed of bells the river flows,
And roses dawn, but not for us; we want
The new thing ever as the old thing grows
Spectral and weary on the hills we haunt,
And that is why we feast and that is why
We're growing odd and old, my heart and I.





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