Poetry Archives

Welcome, old friend! These many years
 Have we lived door by door;
The fates have laid aside their shears
 Perhaps for some few more.

I was indocile at an age
 When better boys were taught,
But thou at length hast made me sage,
 If I am sage in aught.

Little I know from other men,
 Too little they know from me,
But thou hast pointed well the pen
 That writes these lines to thee.

Thanks for expelling Fear and Hope,
 One vile, the other vain;
One’s scourge, the other’s telescope,
 I shall not see again.

Rather what lies before my feet
 My notice shall engage—
He who hath braved Youth’s dizzy heat
 Dreads not the frost of Age.