THEN life grows cold, And we are old; The fire burns low, And Winter's snow Falls through twilight air, And everywhere Is stillness and regret; And we forget All save the early day, So far away; When life is lonely, And we only Have ceaseless quest— Seeking for rest That lingers on the way, As loth to stay With dull and frosty age; Who shall our grief assuage— The weak regret and dole Of a poor trembling soul, With healing words console? Friend of the early day, If still there stay With us Thy presence dear, Nor grief nor fear, Nor sins that we deplore, Can wound us sore. There never can be grief, But Thy relief Shall fall like summer rain, That brings again The glad sweet flowers of spring. And so at last, Our work well done, Unmoved, we'll view The swift descending sun Go down for aye; And, one by one, the twinkling stars Light up the sky. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I MAY, I MIGHT, I MUST by MARIANNE MOORE CONTRA MORTEM: THE CHILD'S BEING by HAYDEN CARRUTH LOVE'S MIRACLE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PERSPECTIVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BLACK RUNNER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE HARD TIMES IN ELFLAND; A STORY OF CHRISTMAS EVE by SIDNEY LANIER |