Should wilding foot no more this woodpath follow, My heart too dull, my knee too stiff to crouch Searching with spring the elusive barren hollow Where ladyslippers hand a pink-veined pouch; When eyes, beside these meadows bronzed and fallow Kindle no more incredulous to behold The gleaming trumpet of the August mallow, -- Ah then I shall be old, -- dear God, how old! Should I forget in reminiscent greeting To scuff Fall's golden pool of crackling leaves, Or fail to hear an elfin footfall fleeting Between the pumpkins and the harvest sheaves; If with these dawns my sleepless spirit treading Beside my bed should no good-morrow say As sunrise on the tingling marshland spreading Unrolls bright arras for the feet of day; If I should cease to hail as hidden treasure The violet gentian by October's stream, Nor pause in rapture's wonderment to measure These twilight valleys steeped in purpled dream; If stolid ear, when wind and storm make battle, Hear only rain and wailing solitude, Or should I see in sun and air and cattle Mere light and breath and my habitual food; -- I shall be old indeed, in age more tragic Than age can ever be for alien eye; Should earth and season lose their ancient magic, My heart long dead, grant body, too, may die! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BELLS OF SAN BLAS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE LONG AGO by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN TAYLOR FAREWELL TO ARRAS by ADAM DE LA HALLE TO A SINGING BIRD by PHILIP AYRES LINES WRITTEN ... ONE WHO HAD WATCHED .. AMERICAN & FRENCH REVOLUTIONS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES AT SENLIS ONCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |