HERE goes a man of seventy-four, Who sees not what life means for him, And here another in years a score Who reads its very figure and trim. The one who shall walk to-day with me Is not the youth who gazes far, But the breezy sire who cannot see What Earth's ingrained conditions are. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SUMMER'S GARDEN by ROBERT FROST THE BISHOP ORDERS HIS TOMB AT SAINT PRAXED'S CHURCH by ROBERT BROWNING HYMN OF THE CITY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD by THOMAS GRAY FABLE; ROME, 1875 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH MERCURY; ON LOSING MY POCKET MILTON AT LUSS NEAR BEN LOMOND by ROBERT ANDREWS HUNTING: EPILOGUE. TO HAVE A FAITHFUL FRIEND by JULIANA BERNERS |