WHEN I was young how fair the skies, Such folly of cloud, such blue depths wise, Such dews of morn, such calms of eve, So many the lure and the reprieve -- Life seemed a toy to break and mend And make a charm of in the end. Then slowly all the dew dried up And only dust lay in the cup; And since, to slake his thirst, man must, I sought a cup that had no dust, And found it at the Goat and Vine -- Mingled of brandy, beer and wine. The goat-cup, straight, drew down the skies And lit them in lunatick wise: What had been rose went scarlet red, And the pearl tints grew like the dead. And the fresh primrose of the morn Was the wet red of rain-spoiled corn. Now, with a head that aches and nods I hold weak hands out to the gods; And oh! forgiving gods and kind, They give me healing to my mind, And show me once again the lawn Green and clear-gemmed with dews of dawn. O gods, who look down from above Upon our tangle of lust and love, And, in your purity, perceive The worth of what our follies leave: Give us but this, and sink the rest -- To know that dew and dawn are best. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PUSSY-WILLOW TIME by ROBERT FROST FRANCIS II, KING OF NAPLES; SONNET by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PENNIWIT, THE ARTIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HATCHING; FOR DAW AUNG SAN SUU KYI by KAREN SWENSON THE WANDERER: A ROCOCO STUDY (FIRST VERSION) by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS |