Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AN OLD POET, by LEWIS MORRIS (1833-1907)


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AN OLD POET, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: My hand, my pen, lie still
Last Line: Flows calm at last!
Subject(s): Old Age; Poetry & Poets


MY hand, my pen, lie still,
My voice is dumb,
No more, unsought, at will
Bright visions come;
No more on faery meads,
The light forms dance,
Nor borne by winged steeds
Speeds swift Romance
Along the rugged road,
With toiling paces slow,
Bent by Time's heavy load,
The dull feet go.

The clear Dawns now shall grow
For younger eyes,
I mark no more the glow
On sunset skies;
Fearless across the foam
The gay barks fleet,
But mine no more may roam,
Since rest grows sweet;
Toil brings its fitting meed,
The haven's rest;
Toil has its joys indeed,
But this is best.

Let younger footsteps soar
To snows untrod,
I strive, I climb no more,
Musing with God.
Through the closed gates of home
Unheeded, half-forgot,
Fainter the memories come
Of what is not.
The Past shows like a dream,
The Present hurries fast;
Courage! Life's seaward stream
Flows calm at last!





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net