WHEN we are dead, we long must lie Within the tomb; distress'd am I, Yes, sad am I that resurrection Delays so long to give perfection. Once more, before the light of life Is quench'd, before this weary strife Is o'er, fain would I, ere I perish, Have woman's love, to bless and cherish. Some fair one I would now invite With eyes as soft as moonbeams' light; No more I relish the advances Of wild brunettes with burning glances. Young men, exulting in their youth, Prefer tumultuous love in truth, With them excitement's all the fashion, And soul-enthralling mutual passion. No longer young, bereft of power, As I, alas! am at this hour, I fain once more would love in quiet, And happy be, -- without a riot. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE YANKEE PRIVATEER by ARTHUR HALE FAREWELL OF A VIRGINIA SLAVE MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTERS SOLD INTO BONDAGE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE BROKEN PITCHER by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT CHINESE PROCESSION by WITTER BYNNER |