Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A LIFETIME, by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: I sit in the early twilight Last Line: The trees with a heavy sigh. Subject(s): Childhood Memories; Time | ||||||||
I SIT in the early twilight, And, through the gathering shade, I look on the fields around me Where yet a child I played. And I peer into the shadows, Till they seem to pass away, And the fields and their tiny brooklet Lie clear in the light of day. A delicate child and slender, With lock of light-brown hair, From knoll to knoll is leaping In the breezy summer air. He stoops to gather blossoms Where the running waters shine; And I look on him with wonder, His eyes are so like mine. I look till the fields and brooklet Swim like a vision by, And a room in a lowly dwelling Lies clear before my eye. There stand, in the clean-swept fireplace, Fresh boughs from the wood in bloom, And the birch-tree's fragrant branches Perfume the humble room. And there the child is standing By a stately lady's knee, And reading of ancient peoples And realms beyond the sea: Of the cruel King of Egypt Who made God's people slaves, And perished, with all his army, Drowned in the Red Sea waves; Of Deborah who mustered Her brethren long oppressed, And routed the heathen army, And gave her people rest; And the sadder, gentler story How Christ, the crucified, With a prayer for those who slew him, Forgave them as he died. I look again, and there rises A forest wide and wild, And in it the boy is wandering, No longer a little child. He murmurs his own rude verses As he roams the woods alone; And again I gaze with wonder, His eyes are so like my own. I see him next in his chamber, Where he sits him down to write The rhymes he framed in his ramble, And he cons them with delight. A kindly figure enters, A man of middle age, And points to a line just written, And 'tis blotted from the page. And next, in a hall of justice, Scarce grown to manly years, Mid the hoary-headed wranglers The slender youth appears. With a beating heart he rises, And with a burning cheek, And the judges kindly listen To hear the young man speak. Another change, and I see him Approach his dwelling-place, Where a fair-haired woman meets him, With a smile on her young face-- A smile that spreads a sunshine On lip and cheek and brow; So sweet a smile there is not In all the wide earth now. She leads by the hand their first-born, A fair-haired little one, And their eyes as they meet him sparkle Like brooks in the morning sun. Another change, and I see him Where the city's ceaseless coil Sends up a mighty murmur From a thousand modes of toil. And there, mid the clash of presses, He plies the rapid pen In the battles of opinion, That divide the sons of men. I look, and the clashing presses And the town are seen no more, But there is the poet wandering A strange and foreign shore. He has crossed the mighty ocean To realms that lie afar, In the region of ancient story, Beneath the morning star. And now he stands in wonder On an icy Alpine height; Now pitches his tent in the desert Where the jackal yells at night; Now, far on the North Sea islands, Sees day on the midnight sky, Now gathers the fair strange fruitage Where the isles of the Southland lie. I see him again at his dwelling, Where, over the little lake, The rose-trees droop in their beauty To meet the image they make. Though years have whitened his temples, His eyes have the first look still, Save a shade of settled sadness, A forecast of coming ill. For in that pleasant dwelling, On the rack of ceaseless pain, Lies she who smiled so sweetly, And prays for ease in vain. And I know that his heart is breaking, When, over those dear eyes, The darkness slowly gathers, And the loved and loving dies. A grave is scooped on the hillside Where often, at eve or morn, He lays the blooms of the garden-- He, and his youngest born. And well I know that a brightness From his life has passed away, And a smile from the green earth's beauty And a glory from the day. But I behold, above him, In the far blue deeps of air, Dim battlements shining faintly, And a throng of faces there; See over crystal barrier The airy figures bend, Like those who are watching and waiting The coming of a friend. And one there is among them, With a star upon her brow, In her life a lovely woman, A sinless seraph now. I know the sweet calm features; The peerless smile I know, And I stretch my arms with transport From where I stand below. And the quick tears drown my eyelids, But the airy figures fade, And the shining battlements darken And blend with the evening shade. I am gazing into the twilight Where the dim-seen meadows lie, And the wind of night is swaying The trees with a heavy sigh. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ELEVEN EYES: FINAL SECTION by LYN HEJINIAN THE FATALIST: COME OCTOBER by LYN HEJINIAN THE FATALIST: HOME by LYN HEJINIAN THE FATALIST: TIME IS FILLED by LYN HEJINIAN SLOWLY: I FREQUENTLY SLOWLY WISH by LYN HEJINIAN ALL THE DIFFICULT HOURS AND MINUTES by JANE HIRSHFIELD A DAY IS VAST by JANE HIRSHFIELD FROM THIS HEIGHT by TONY HOAGLAND A FOREST HYMN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |
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