Poems (Sherwin)/Age

by Elizabeth Sherwin

For works with similar titles, see Age.

AGE.

As alone by his fireside poor Raymond was sitting,
 Reclined in his arm chair, forsaken, forlorn,
The scenes of his life o'er his fancy were flitting,
 And he wept as he thought on his youth's early morn.

A tear of regret down his pale cheek was stealing,
 And sorrow was legibly marked on his brow;
His white locks the progress of time were revealing,
 And his sad heavy heart was o'erflowing with woe.

He bitterly sighed, while in sentences broken,
 He murmured, "Oh, where are those shadows all gone.
That I once hailed with joy, as of bliss a bright token?
 Alas! with that bliss and my hopes they are flown.

And where are those friends I once tenderly cherished,
 Whose kindness made life like a smooth river flow;
The wife of my bosom,—each warm heart has perished;
 All, all now have left me,—yes! all are laid low.

My children, as dear as the life-blood that warmed me,
 Once fondly I hoped would sooth life's latest day;
Sweet hopes that in earlier days often charmed me,
 Like dreams of the morning have faded away.

All—all that I loved, in the grave now are sleeping,—
 I've seen one by one each companion depart;
I have felt the cold hand of old age slowly creeping,
 And to feel it thus lonely has broken my heart.

Then come, gentle slumber of death, now steal o'er me,—
 Waft me also where my bright visions are flown;
And let me once more behold those gone before me,
 "Oh! who can inhabit this bleak world alone?"