MY prow is tending toward the west, Old voices growing faint, dear faces dim, And all that I have loved the best Far back upon the waste of memory swim. My old world disappears: Few hopes and many fears Accompany me. But from the distance fair A sound of birds, a glimpse of pleasant skies, A scent of fragrant air, All soothingly arise In cooing voice, sweet breath, and merry eyes Of grandson on my knee. And ere my sails be furled, Kind Lord, I pray Thou let me live a day In my new world. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POET AND HIS SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 101 by OMAR KHAYYAM KNOWLEDGE by HENRY DAVID THOREAU RIVALRY IN LOVE by WILLIAM WALSH (1663-1707) SONG OF YOUTH by LULU PIPER AIKEN TEMPEST by ANITA CONCHITA ALLMON THE STATION MAN, ON LOOK-OUT by ARCHIE BINNS MADMAN I HAVE BEEN CALLED by WILLIAM BLAKE MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN PASSION WEEK: MONDAY by JOHN BYROM |