I DOE bemoan my youthful sinne And the steep road I hurried bye Until I met old Age therin That hid youth's going from myne eye. Nought of his footsteps I descrye Nor palfrey's hoof-prints. How went he? As sudden as a bird doth flye, And left me nought but beggarye. He is fled awaye and I am left Who little knowe nor understand, Less ripe than rotten, all bereft Of mirth and money, house and land. I bear upon me the harsh brand Of mine own kind who from the fold Doe drive me with unkindlye hand Because I have but little gold. Ah! Godde, hadde I in my wild youth But studied well and walked arighte, I mighte have hadde an house in sooth And lain between warm sheets o' nighte. But, naye! from school I took my flighte As anye naughtye ladde will doe. Nowe when these woeful words I write My heart comes nigh to break in two. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPAIN IN AMERICA by GEORGE SANTAYANA LEPANTO by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON AN EPITAPH UPON HUSBAND AND WIFE WHO DIED AND WERE BURIED by RICHARD CRASHAW LA BELLA BONA ROBA by RICHARD LOVELACE FIDELIS by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER THE VILLAGE MUNITIONS CO., INC.; FORMERLY THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS MY LITTLE GARDEN by GWENDOLEN ALLEN |