It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes; The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart that breaks. The heart asks more than life can give, When that is learned, then all is learned; The waves break fold on jewelled fold, But beauty itself is fugitive, It will not hurt me when I am old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GENERAL PUBLIC by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET HAIL TEESSIDE! by CECIL DAY LEWIS PURSUIT OF THE WORD by ROBERT FROST ONE OF THE LEAST OF THESE, MY LITTLE ONE' by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON OWL AGAINST ROBIN by SIDNEY LANIER BOYHOOD FRIENDS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS CHRISTMAS AT INDIAN POINT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |