It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes; The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart that breaks. The heart asks more than life can give, When that is learned, then all is learned; The waves break fold on jewelled fold, But beauty itself is fugitive, It will not hurt me when I am old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUTUMN SONG by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE DESIRE OF NATIONS by EDWIN MARKHAM A PRAYER IN SPRING by ROBERT FROST TO JANE: THE INVITATION by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY HAVE YOU PLANTED A TREE? by HENRY ABBEY THE PRETENCE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |