Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE YOUTH OF AGE, by JOHN LAWSON STODDARD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE YOUTH OF AGE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: There comes a moment when, with pained surprise
Last Line: The stars are heralding another dawn!
Subject(s): Aging; Health; Life; Youth


There comes a moment when, with pained surprise,
We realize that Life's summit hath been passed,
And see our pathway slope toward sunset skies,
Whose eastward-slanting shadows lengthen fast;
How keen the pang when first we comprehend
We climb no longer, but must now descend!

'Tis not a moment fixed by months and years,
Some lives move quickly, others seem to creep;
One ages rapidly through griefs and tears,
Another knows not what it is to weep;
But all must reach at last the twilight stage, --
Life's pale penultimate, the youth of age.

There is at first no hint of coming ill;
Our step is buoyant, life retains its zest;
We notice only that the air grows chill,
And see the sun already in the west;
This, though still high, with lessened ardor shines,
And slowly, surely, steadily declines.

One day there comes a sudden, startling change;
Some functions, once obedient, now rebel;
The heart's pulsation seems disturbed and strange;
Of course "'tis nothing," but . . . we are not well;
The doctor holds our wrist, inspects our tongue,
And says: "Be careful, you are no more young.

"Mount always slowly, never dare to run,
Bask like a lizard in the solar heat,
All drafty corners sedulously shun,
And never sit with cold or dampened feet;
Be satisfied with what you have of wealth;
Henceforth your business is to keep your health."

'Tis not a question yet of wills and heirs,
But, like a timeworn, weather-beaten wall,
Our framework needs continual repairs,
Perpetual propping, lest the whole may fall;
The body has become, we know not why,
Something objective, and no longer I.

Our comrades form with us a mournful group
Which talks of little save of drugs and cures;
Each notes how much the others cough and stoop,
And loves to tell the ailments he endures;
And, curious fancy, we all look to see
If those who die have fewer years than we!

And yet, as time moves on, we grow resigned;
Old friends precede us to the sunset land,
And younger ones, alas, we often find
In thoughts and manners hard to understand;
They call us backward, apathetic, old;
We deem them rash, irreverent, and bold.

In truth, we now have thoughts they could not share,
Vague inspirations we may not reveal:
Nor would those strenuous youths at present care
To know what we in silence think and feel;
They are constrained life's desert to subdue;
We are the caravan that passes through.

For somehow we have come at last to know
Of other shores beyond the sunset sea,
Where these poor human lives shall further grow
Toward something vastly nobler, yet to be;
And where already, ere our sun be gone,
The stars are heralding another dawn!




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