Tags: Masters Acceptance EssayEssay Mba BewerbungShort Form Business PlanThe African American Religious Experience In America EssayThe Twilight Mystique Critical Essays On The Novels And FilmsBest Cover Letters Fashion IndustryHow To Manage HomeworkAlexander Pope Essay On Man
In his youth, he was physically stronger and had an attraction towards nature and its objects.The poet says that love is like a flower and friendship is like a tree which protects you from all kinds of weather.
Everything appeared to be good that could be achieved easily, the poet was full of aspiring dreams and hopes for the future. Nought cared this body for wind or weather When Youth and I lived in’t together.
The world appeared to be good and the poet was filled with a new vigour and vitality. In the above lines, we see the poet again reminiscing very woefully about the time gone by. And with a heavy heart, he goes over the changes time had brought in him, changes brought about in his body.
Age might take a toll on your body but if you are young in your thoughts than no one should call you old.
Dew-drops are the gems of morning, But the tears of mournful eve!
The poet feels himself to be lucky to be blessed with friendship.
But as he reconciles with this reality that he has grown old he consoles himself with this philosophy that we only grow old when our way of thinking grows old.
Where no hope is, life’s a warning That only serves to make us grieve, When we are old: That only serves to make us grieve With oft and tedious taking-leave, Like some poor nigh-related guest, That may not rudely be dismist; Yet hath outstay’d his welcome while, And tells the jest without the smile.
Again drawing a contrast between youth and old age, the poet says that when you are in your prime the dew-drops seen in the morning look like gems whereas in old age these same dew-drops change into tears of pain and suffering.
Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like; Friendship is a sheltering tree; O!
the joys, that came down shower-like, Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty, Ere I was old! Ah woful Ere, Which tells me, Youth’s no longer here! for years so many and sweet, ‘Tis known, that Thou and I were one, I’ll think it but a fond conceit— It cannot be that Thou art gone!