Author: Victor James Daley
We said farewell, my youth and I, When all fair dreams were gone or going, And Loves red lips were cold and dry. When white blooms fell from tree-tops high, Our Austral winters way of snowing, We said farewell, my youth and I. We did not sigh, what use to sigh When Death passed as a mower mowing, And Loves red lips were cold and dry? But hearing Lifes stream thunder by, That sang of old through flowers flowing, We said farewell, my youth and I. There was no hope in the blue sky, No music in the low winds blowing, And Loves red lips were cold and dry. My hair is black as yet, then why So sad! I know not, only knowing We said farewell, my youth and I. All are not buried when they die; Dead souls there are through live eyes showing When Loves red lips are cold and dry. So, seeing where the dead men lie, Out of their hearts the grave-flowers growing, We said farewell, my youth and I, When Loves red lips were cold and dry.
Type of Poem: Villanelle
Date Written:
Date Published:
Language: English
Keywords: Public Domain
Source: Public Domain Collection
Publisher:
Rights/Permissions: Public Domain
Comments/Notes: This poem is a melancholic contemplation of the inevitable passage of time and the loss of youth. The predominant theme is the inescapable progression towards death, symbolized by the repeated line "And Loves red lips were cold and dry," which suggests the fading of passion and vitality. The poem's tone is somber, with the speaker reflecting on the end of youthful dreams and the onset of an uncertain future.
The structure of the poem is a villanelle, a form marked by its repetitiveness, which effectively conveys the relentless march of time and the cyclical nature of life and death. The repetition of the lines "We said farewell, my youth and I" and "When Loves red lips were cold and dry" serves as a haunting refrain that underscores the sense of loss and inevitability. This repetition also emphasizes the theme of resignation and acceptance, as the speaker comes to terms with their mortality. Despite the gloominess, there's a sense of beauty in the acceptance of life's ephemeral nature, represented by the imagery of falling white blooms and the music of Life's stream. The line "All are not buried when they die" further explores the notion of death as not just physical, but also a metaphorical death of the spirit or the fading of vitality. Overall, this poem is a poignant exploration of aging and the human condition.