Massive and grand are those old houses know, Whose rails, too high for children's hands to reach, Lend yet the ready help of friends to each In age, to ease his hard ascent and slow. Like brooks', their broad mahogany's soft flow; Like that of rivers the proud sweep of them, Holy because they knew the garments' hem Of some we loved and lost in Long Ago.... Ah, God! what is to soothe us -- now our tears Are softly fall'n and Laughter lets no more Her silver lyric float from floor to floor -- Who climb these silent stairways with the years For mute companions, and, when those have passed, But stagger blindly down them at the last! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALL RELIGIONS ARE ONE by WILLIAM BLAKE ON HIS BEING [OR, HAVING] ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-THREE by JOHN MILTON THE LAMP [LAMPE] by HENRY VAUGHAN TO JOY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN APPREHENSION by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |