Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: ON MY TWENTY-FOURTH YEAR, by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: The night's in november: the winds are at strife Last Line: To my twenty-fourth year. Alternate Author Name(s): Meredith, Owen; Lytton, 1st Earl Of; Lytton, Robert Subject(s): Birthdays; Netherlands; Travel; Holland; Dutch People; Journeys; Trips | ||||||||
THE night 's in November: the winds are at strife: The snow 's on the hill, and the ice on the mere: The world to its winter is turned: and my life To its twenty-fourth year. The swallows are flown to the south long ago: The roses are fallen: the woodland is sere. Hope 's flown with the swallows: Love's rose will not grow In my twenty-fourth year. The snow on the threshold: the cold at the heart: But the fagot to warm, and the winecup to cheer: God's help to look up to: and courage to start On my twenty-fourth year. And 't is well that the month of the roses is o'er! The last, which I plucked for Neraea to wear, She gave her new lover. A man should do more With his twenty-fourth year Than mourn for a woman, because she's unkind, Or pine for a woman, because she is fair. Ah, I loved you, Neraea! But now...never mind, 'T is my twenty-fourth year! What a thing! to have done with the follies of Youth, Ere Age brings ITS follies! ...though many a tear It should cost, to see Love fly away, and find Truth In one's twenty-fourth year. The Past's golden valleys are drained. I must plant On the Future's rough upland new harvests, I fear. Ho, the plough and the team! ...who would perish of want In his twenty-fourth year? Man's heart is a well, which forever renews The void at the bottom, no sounding comes near: And Love does not die, though its object I lose In my twenty-fourth year. The great and the little are only in name. The smoke from my chimney casts shadows as drear On the heart, as the smoke from Vesuvius in flame: And my twenty-fourth year, From the joys that have cheered it, the cares that have troubled, What is wise to pursue, what is well to revere, May judge all as fully as though life were doubled To its forty-eighth year! If the prospect grow dim, 't is because it grows wide. Every loss hath its gain. So, from sphere on to sphere, Man mounts up the ladder of Time: so I stride Up my twenty-fourth year! Exulting? ...no...sorrowing? ...no...with a mind Whose regret chastens hope, whose faith triumphs o'er fear: Not repining: not confident: no, but resigned To my twenty-fourth year. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RICHARD, WHAT'S THAT NOISE? by RICHARD HOWARD LOOKING FOR THE GULF MOTEL by RICHARD BLANCO RIVERS INTO SEAS by LYNDA HULL DESTINATIONS by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN THE ONE WHO WAS DIFFERENT by RANDALL JARRELL THE CONFESSION OF ST. JIM-RALPH by DENIS JOHNSON SESTINA: TRAVEL NOTES by WELDON KEES TO H. B. (WITH A BOOK OF VERSE) by MAURICE BARING THE LAST WISH by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: AUX ITALIENS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: THE CHESSBOARD by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |
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