Old Song

By Edward Fitzgerald

1809-1883


TIS a dull sight
         To see the year dying,
When winter winds
         Set the yellow wood sighing:
         Sighing, O sighing!

When such a time cometh
         I do retire
Into an old room
         Beside a bright fire:
         O, pile a bright fire!

And there I sit
         Reading old things,
Of knights and lorn damsels,
         While the wind sings--
         O, drearily sings!

I never look out
         Nor attend to the blast;
For all to be seen
         Is the leaves falling fast:
         Falling, falling!

But close at the hearth,
         Like a cricket, sit I,
Reading of summer
         And chivalry--
         Gallant chivalry!

Then with an old friend
         I talk of our youth--
How 'twas gladsome, but often
         Foolish, forsooth:
         But gladsome, gladsome!

Or, to get merry,
         We sing some old rhyme
That made the wood ring again
         In summer time--
         Sweet summer time!

Then go we smoking,
         Silent and snug:
Naught passes between us,
         Save a brown jug--
         Sometimes!

And sometimes a tear
         Will rise in each eye,
Seeing the two old friends
         So merrily--
         So merrily!

And ere to bed
         Go we, go we,
Down on the ashes
         We kneel on the knee,
         Praying together!

Thus, then, live I
         Till, 'mid all the gloom,
By Heaven! the bold sun
         Is with me in the room
         Shining, shining!

Then the clouds part,
         Swallows soaring between;
The spring is alive,
         And the meadows are green!

I jump up like mad,
         Break the old pipe in twain,
And away to the meadows,
         The meadows again!

DayPoems Poem No. 649
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/649.html">Old Song by Edward Fitzgerald</a>

The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor

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