If ever I am old, and all alone, I shall have killed one grief, at any rate: For then, thank God, I shall not have to wait Much longer for the sheaves that I have sown. The devil only knows what I have done, But here I am, and here are six or eight Good friends, who most ingenuously prate About my songs to such and such a one. But everything is all askew to-night, -- As if the time were come, or almost come, For their untenanted mirage of me To lose itself and crumble out of sight, Like a tall ship that floats above the foam A little while, and then breaks utterly. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FOUNTAIN (2) by SARA TEASDALE OH! BLAME NOT THE BARD by THOMAS MOORE OLD WAR-DREAMS by WALT WHITMAN TO THE MOCKINGBIRD by RICHARD HENRY WILDE IMAGES: 6 by RICHARD ALDINGTON THE TULIP AND THE LILY, SELECTION by JAMES BARCLAY THE FASHIONS, 1806 by LEWIS BEACH |