More Tender Lands Poem by Stephen Crane

More Tender Lands



Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground.
Why do you stand, expectant?
Do you hope to see it
In one of your withered days?
With your old eyes
Do you hope to see
The triumphal march of Justice?
Do not wait, friend!
Take your white beard
And your old eyes
To more tender lands.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: old age
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
María Andreína 24 July 2018

I have found so much meaning on this poem, it might be my favorite one of all time. It makes me think of my parents, and gives me hope for the future. A short masterpiece.

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