Famous Short Age Poems. Short Age Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Age short poems
See also: Best Famous Short Poems | Short Member Poems | Best Short Member Poems
And middle age ends
The day your descendents
Outnumber your friends.
Praise, they that will, times past: I joy to see
Myself now live; this age best pleaseth me!
I SEE in you the estuary that enlarges and spreads itself grandly as it pours in the great
Was it always as now? This race I truly can't fathom.
Nothing is young but old age; youth, alas! only is old.
Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.
New eyes each year
Find old books here,
And new books,too,
Old eyes renew;
So youth and age
Like ink and page
In this house join,
Minting new coin.
Let's now take our time,
While we're in our prime,
And old, old age is afar off;
For the evil, evil days
Will come on apace,
Before we can be aware of.
You think it horrible that lust and rage
Should dance attention upon my old age;
They were not such a plague when I was young;
What else have I to spur me into song?
The Poets light but Lamps --
Themselves -- go out --
The Wicks they stimulate --
If vital Light
Inhere as do the Suns --
Each Age a Lens
When we are dead, some Hunting-boy will pass
And find a stone half-hidden in tall grass
And grey with age: but having seen that stone
(Which was your image), ride more slowly on.
SHINES the last age the next with hope is seen
To-day slinks poorly off unmarked between:
Future or Past no richer secret folds
O friendless Present! than thy bosom holds.
In youth my wings were strong and tireless,
But I did not know the mountains.
In age I knew the mountains
But my weary wings could not follow my vision --
Genius is wisdom and youth.
If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage;
If Right made Might, this were the golden age;
But now, until we win the long campaign,
Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign.
THIS dust was once the Man,
Gentle, plain, just and resolute—under whose cautious hand,
Against the foulest crime in history known in any land or age,
Was saved the Union of These States.
They say that "Time assuages" --
Time never did assuage --
An actual suffering strengthens
As Sinews do, with age --
Time is a Test of Trouble --
But not a Remedy --
If such it prove, it prove too
There was no Malady --
There are no lies
in the morning
no cheating of age
an illusion of eye
smoothing skin over bone.
No portrait hidden away
and demanding release.
Another day to face,
my confessor, so laugh
at this charting of years.
In grayish doubt and black despair,
I drafted hymns to the earth and the air,
pretending to joy, although I lacked it.
The age had made lament redundant.
So here's the question -- who can answer it --
Was he a brave man or a hypocrite?
With half a heart I wander here
As from an age gone by
A brother yet— though young in years,
An elder brother, I.
You speak another tongue than mine,
Though both were English born.
I towards the night of time decline,
You mount into the morn.
OLD age is courteous--no one more:
For time after time he knocks at the door,
But nobody says, "Walk in, sir, pray!"
Yet turns he not from the door away,
But lifts the latch, and enters with speed.
And then they cry "A cool one, indeed!"
O years! and age! farewell:
Behold I go,
Where I do know
Infinity to dwell.
And these mine eyes shall see
All times, how they
Are lost i' th' sea
Of vast eternity:--
Where never moon shall sway
The stars; but she,
And night, shall be
Drown'd in one endless day.
Old age is
a flight of small
above a snow glaze.
Gaining and failing
they are buffeted
by a dark wind—
On harsh weedstalks
the flock has rested—
is covered with broken
and the wind tempered
with a shrill
piping of plenty.
In a lonely place,
I encountered a sage
Who sat, all still,
Regarding a newspaper.
He accosted me:
"Sir, what is this?"
Then I saw that I was greater,
Aye, greater than this sage.
I answered him at once,
"Old, old man, it is the wisdom of the age."
The sage looked upon me with admiration.
Even such is time, which takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, and all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust,
Who in the dark and silent grave
When we have wandered all our ways
Shuts up the story of our days,
And from which earth, and grave, and dust
The Lord will raise me up, I trust.
They say eyes clear with age,
As dew clarifies air
To sharpen evenings,
As if time put an edge
Round the last shape of things
To show them there;
The many-levelled trees,
The long soft tides of grass
Wrinkling away the gold
Wind-ridden waves- all these,
They say, come back to focus
As we grow old.