Old And Young Comments

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.

So fascinating and lovely verse. Changes come with the passage of time. Thoughtfully explained. Thanks.

Time traced in an intant. A moment that passed almost unnoticed until caught in a poem. QtR

What a wonderful poem with a subtle message. We have traded childhood for the manmade fantasies, and prescribed ways of life.

Wnderful poem for the old and the child

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

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

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

Life is a beautiful place full of contradictions and lovely moments. Thank you.

A dose of your own medicine: -) Fantastic poem.