WHEN the veil from the eyes is lifted The seer's head is gray; When the sailor to shore has drifted The sirens are far away. Why must the clearer vision, The wisdom of Life's late hour, Come, as in Fate's derison, When the hand has lost its power? Is there a rarer being, Is there a fairer sphere Where the strong are not unseeing, And the harvests are not sere; Where, ere the seasons dwindle, They yield their due return; Where the lamps of knowledge kindle While the flames of youth still burn? O, for the young man's chances! O, for the old man's will! Those flee while this advances, And the strong years cheat us still. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 4. THE LOTTERY GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON GRENADIER by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SOUTH WIND by SIEGFRIED SASSOON SONG OF SLAVES IN THE DESERT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION; A POEM. ENLARGED VERSION: BOOK 1 by MARK AKENSIDE AT A READING by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |