I saw the ramparts of my native land, One time so strong, now dropping in decay, Their strength destroyed by this new age's way, That has worn out and rotted what was grand. I went into the fields: there I could see The sun drink up the waters newly thawed, And on the hills the moaning cattle pawed; Their miseries robbed the day of light for me. I went into my house: I saw how spotted, Decaying things made that old house their prize. My withered walking-staff had come to bend. I felt the age had won; my sword was rotted, And there was nothing on which to set my eyes That was not a reminder of the end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VERSES FROM THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE POSY RING by CLEMENT MAROT THE CAP AND BELLS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS FAREWELL by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 59. AL-MUBDI by EDWIN ARNOLD CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS by JOANNA BAILLIE MAN MUST DO MORE FOR MAN by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |