A HUNDRED years I seek the stars Through tempest, heat, and cold; My body scarred by many scars, My spirit wisely old. Yet the eternal song I sing, From sun and shadow made, Is lisped as sweetly every spring By the least flowers that fade. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 35 by JAMES JOYCE THE BIRDS by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS DE GUSTIBUS' by ROBERT BROWNING VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1876 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE SEASONS: A HYMN by JAMES THOMSON (1700-1748) RUINED CHURCH by F. W. BATESON THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: MADAME LA MARQUISE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |