LONG ago, on a bright spring day,
I passed a little child at play;
And as I passed, in childish glee
She called to me, “Come and play with me!”
But my eyes were fixed on a far-off height
I was fain to climb before the night;
So, half-impatient, I answered, “Nay!
I am too old, too old to play.”
Long, long after, in Autumn time—
My limbs were grown too old to climb—
I passed a child on a pleasant lea,
And I called to her, “Come and play with me!”
But her eyes were fixed on a fairy-book;
And scarce she lifted a wondering look,
As with childish scorn she answered, “Nay!
I am too old, too old to play!”
Excellent poem. Ummm.....condemn me but when i have something to say i say. You know the freedom of speech and right to offend bit. The bit which we in Zimbabwe are dying to have. This poem is good and has a rhythm to it just like my 1,2,3 project not taken satire thing. The poet lost his rhythm here and there and that interferes with the muse
1. I passed a child at play.....would have maintained rhythm 2. " Come play with me" .........the and is jarring the muse 3 called to her " Come play with me" .......again removing words which interfere with rhythm 4. With childish scorn she answered " Nay" The poem then becomes easy to remember even to recite poem while you take a shower
I dont give up. That essentially was my point in 1,2,3....for us poets to practice writing short rhythmic phrases loaded with meaning. At the count of 1 2 3 you write a phrase nay a sentence which makes sense and as you know practice makes perfect. Those i irritate poem coming up
Wnderful poem for the old and the child
A brilliant poetic feat, with an appropriate title. Loved it.
Long, long after, in Autumn time— My limbs were grown too old to climb— I passed a child on a pleasant lea, And I called to her, “Come and play with me! ”......I feel here the scene of playing moment of grandpa and grandchild; grandchild is calling grandpa to play with them but for the old age it 's unable to play; the last line of this poem is very heart-touching " answered, “Nay! I am too old, too old to play! ” ~
Long, long after, in Autumn time— My limbs were grown too old to climb— I passed a child on a pleasant lea, And I called to her, “Come and play with me! ” a fine poem of loving invitation. tony
But her eyes were fixed on a fairy-book; And scarce she lifted a wondering look, As with childish scorn she answered, “Nay! I am too old, too old to play! ” very fine poem. tony
A fairy-book! ! ! Able to look on. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A dose of your own medicine: -) Fantastic poem.