How Old Is My Heart, How Old? Poem by Christopher John Brennan

How Old Is My Heart, How Old?

Rating: 3.0

How old is my heart, how old, how old is my heart,
and did I ever go forth with song when the morn was new?
I seem to have trod on many ways: I seem to have left
I know not how many homes; and to leave each
was still to leave a portion of mine own heart,
of my old heart whose life I had spent to make that home
and all I had was regret, and a memory.

So I sit and muse in this wayside harbour and wait
till I hear the gathering cry of the ancient winds and again
I must up and out and leave the members of the hearth
to crumble silently into white ash and dust,
and see the road stretch bare and pale before me: again
my garment and my house shall be the enveloping winds
and my heart be fill'd wholly with their old pitiless cry.

Susan Williams 30 November 2015

He is amazing! I find it difficult to get started but once in, I find him singing a song that lives in my heart

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Edward Kofi Louis 27 June 2015

So i sit and muse in this wayside. Nice work.

1 0 Reply
Edgar Stevens 27 June 2015

heart does not get is reborn every sunrise...

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K.c. Ford 27 June 2015

The more I read from this poet, the more I appreciate his ability. Shame that he died in poverty.

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