Poetry Archives

When I was young my heart and head were light,
And I was gay and feckless as a colt
Out in the fields, with morning in the may,
Wind on the grass, wings in the orchard bloom.
  O thrilling sweet, my joy, when life was free
  And all the paths led on from hawthorn-time
  Across the carolling meadows into June.

But now my heart is heavy-laden. I sit
Burning my dreams away beside the fire:
For death has made me wise and bitter and strong;
And I am rich in all that I have lost.
  O starshine on the fields of long-ago,
  Bring me the darkness and the nightingale;
  Dim wealds of vanished summer, peace of home,
  And silence; and the faces of my friends.