THIS man that at the wheatstack side Sits drinking of the twilight air, This man's my friend, in him's my guide And guard against the traps of care. His life now past meridian mark One can but say is blossoming yet, His summer day smiles back the dark, His sun seems nearer rise than set. In lusty youth when surging blood With foam and din bemuses most, Leander-like he rode the flood, And strongly came to manhood's coast. Since, with a sturdy steady tread, He sowed and stored himself good grain, And glowing yet he bows his head With plough and scythe across the plain. And like the north star stablished true He cheers and aids my asking eye; To see him at his door anew Is like a sign shown in the sky. With all his calm he's eager still, New dreams in his old vision thrive, He seizes chance on dale and hill, And all his life has been alive. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DAY IS DONE by PHOEBE CARY A SEA STORY by EMILY HENRIETTA HICKEY WINTER WITH THE GULF STREAM by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS TO E. L., ON HIS TRAVELS IN GREECE by ALFRED TENNYSON IN SCHOOL-DAYS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER SOLOMON AND THE WITCH by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE NIGHTINGALE THAT WAS DROWNED by PHILIP AYRES TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, BOTH IN BIRTH AND VIRTUE, EARL OF CUMBERLAND by THOMAS CAMPION |