Retirement Poems for your Enjoyment
from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
"Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in the mirror.
But you are that eternity and you are that mirror."
French Proverb
Only he who does nothing makes no mistakes.
A Prayer For Old Age by Anonymous
GOD guard me from those thoughts men think
In the mind alone;
He that sings a lasting song
Thinks in a marrow-bone;
From all that makes a wise old man
That can be praised of all;
O what am I that I should not seem
For the song's sake a fool?
I pray - for word is out
And prayer comes round again -
That I may seem, though I die old,
A foolish, passionate man.
Irish Blessing by Anonymous
May you always have work for your hands to do.
May your pockets hold always a coin or two.
May the sun shine bright on your windowpane.
May the rainbow be certain to follow each rain.
May the hand of a friend always be near you.
And may God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.
Reflections on Having Left a Place of Retirement by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1795
Low was our pretty Cot: our tallest Rose
Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear
At silent noon, and eve, and early morn,
The Sea's faint murmur. In the open air
Our Myrtles blossom'd; and across the porch
Thick Jasmines twined: the little landscape round
Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye.
It was a spot which you might aptly call
The Valley of Seclusion! Once I saw
(Hallowing his Sabbath-day by quietness)
A wealthy son of Commerce saunter by,
Bristowa's citizen: methought, it calm'd
His thirst of idle gold, and made him muse
With wiser feelings: for he paus'd, and look'd
With a pleas'd sadness, and gaz'd all around,
Then eyed our Cottage, and gaz'd round again,
And sigh'd, and said, it was a Blesséd Place.
And we were bless'd. Oft with patient ear
Long-listening to the viewless sky-lark's note
(Viewless, or haply for a moment seen
Gleaming on sunny wings) in whisper'd tones
I said to my Beloved, `Such, sweet Girl!
The unobtrusive song of Happiness,
Unearthly minstrelsy! then only heard
When the Soul seeks to hear ; when all is hush'd,
And the Heart listens!'
But the time, when first
From that low Dell, steep up the stony Mount
I climb'd with perilous toil and reach'd the top,
Oh! what a goodly scene! Here the bleak mount,
The bare bleak mountain speckled thin with sheep;
Grey clouds, that shadowing spot the sunny fields;
And river, now with bushy rocks o'er-brow'd,
Now winding bright and full, with naked banks;
And seats, and lawns, the Abbey and the wood,
And cots, and hamlets, and faint city-spire;
The Channel there, the Islands and white sails,
Dim coasts, and cloud-like hills, and shoreless Ocean-
It seem'd like Omnipresence! God, methought,
Had build him there a Temple: the whole World
Seem'd imag'd in its vast circumference:
No wish profan'd my overwhelméd heart.
Blest hour! It was a luxury, -to be!
Ah! quiet Dell! dear Cot, and Mount sublime!
I was constrain'd to quit you. Was it right,
While my unnumber'd brethren toil'd and bled,
That I should dream away the entrusted hours
On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart
With feelings all too delicate for use ?
Sweet is the tear that from some Howard's eye
Drops on the cheek of one he lifts from earth:
And he that works me good with unmov'd face,
Does it but half: he chills me while he aids,
My benefactor, not my brother man!
Yet even this, this cold beneficence
Praise, praise it, O my Soul ! oft as thou scann'st
The sluggard Pity's vision-weaving tribe!
Who sigh for Wretchedness, yet shun the Wretched,
Nursing in some delicious solitude
Their slothful loves and dainty sympathies!
I therefore go, and join head, heart, and hand,
Active and firm, to fight the bloodless fight
Of Science, Freedom, and the Truth in Christ.
Yet oft when after honourable toil
Rests the tir'd mind, and waking loves to dream,
My spirit shall revisit thee, dear Cot!
Thy Jasmin and thy window-peeping Rose,
And Myrtles fearless of the mild sea-air.
And I shall sigh fond wishes - sweet Abode!
Ah!--had none greater! And that all had such!
It might be so--but the time is not yet.
Speed it, O Father! Let thy Kingdom come!
The Retirement BY Anne Finch
All flie th'unhappy, and I all wou'd flie
Knew I but where to go, or how to die.
A Tomb of Sorrow is a dreadful Sight,
No wonder that a moving Grave shou'd fright
Abandon'd, helpless, and alone I came
From nothing to this World, from Ease to Pain
My infant Sighs did the small Fabric shake,
As Winds Pent in when from the Earth they Break
Which Mortal Men for dismal Omens take
'Twas then alas! by certain Instinct taught,
As if inspir'd by some prophetic Thought,
My Parents fled that World, to which this Wretch they brought
They fear'd to see what I was Born to prove,
They fled from Youth, from Beauty, and from love,
But 'twas to meet again in Groves above.
An Assignation justly tim'd, and kept,
The last undaunted went, and boldly leapt.
That Gulph of Death her dearer half had past,
Desire of Liberty her Hopes encreas'd;
Love lent her Wings and added to her Hast
But all to Slow, too late she was releas'd
Too late for me, for had she sooner fled,
She with her own, had burst my twisted Thread;
That Thread, which since the Sisters Wove so Strong
As if they meant to prove their Force was young.
As in the World's bright dawn, when sprightly Life
Was Proof against Diseases, Age, and Grief
Then Men cou'd live in Spight of every dart
That Death cou'd fling, nor fear'd a broken Heart.
But I, who had observ'd their Force Decay,
And that each Chance cou'd clear to Death the Way;
From Grief expected long that mournful Ease,
And learn'd to smile at every Pains Increase.
But now alas! those Fatal Hopes decay,
In spite of Sorrow I must longer Stay;
My Pilgrimage is hard and long the Way.
Too long the Way thro' which I still must grieve,
Ah! for what Crime; am I condemn'd to live?
Else thro' th'Abyss I'd Steer my airy Race,
And new the Secret of the boundless Space.
Survey those glittering Particles of Light,
That with dissembled Day supply the Night
Thence to the Source of Day direct my wondrous Flight.
The Hidden Cause of things unknown descrie
The Strange Vicissitude of Earth, of Air, and Sky.
Why some so prone to change, to some again
Such firm, and Stedfast, constant Rules Remain
I would go on but that the towering flight,
Makes me grow giddy, with the dreadful night,
Yes, I wou'd forward, and my Voice I'd raise,
Join with the Sphere's in my Creator's Praise
In Songs Eternal, and no mortal Lays.
As 'tis his Will, but who that will can see
Involv'd n such dark Clouds of Mystery.
We know not what his will commands us here,
Less can we tell our future duty there
Yes, here I'm lost, for none of all the dead
Return to tell what a Soul is when fled.
Of what we there will do, we hear may boast,
But there for ought we know All thought is lost
To live, or Die why should I not submit?
Or why delay My death, or hasten it?
Since all is guided by his boundless Will,
For sure the Soul his Wisdom made, his Pow'r continues Still.
RETIREMENT by William Wordsworth; 1827
IF the whole weight of what we think and feel,
Save only far as thought and feeling blend
With action, were as nothing, patriot Friend!
From thy remonstrance would be no appeal;
But to promote and fortify the weal
Of our own Being is her paramount end;
A truth which they alone shall comprehend
Who shun the mischief which they cannot heal.
Peace in these feverish times is sovereign bliss:
Here, with no thirst but what the stream can slake,
And startled only by the rustling brake,
Cool air I breathe; while the unencumbered Mind
By some weak aims at services assigned
To gentle Natures, thanks not Heaven amiss.
RETIREMENT (The last day at work) by Anonymous
Retiring isn't easy,
It really isn't any fun
To leave behind an office
And say goodbye to everyone
To start as a probationer
And finish as a boss
I attribute only to good luck -
Or to some others' loss.
What things do I remember
Which took place throughout the years?
A daily travel ritual
In the company of my peers;
Each morning's seven-twenty
And each evening's six-oh-one;
Sat down in the same old seat -
How those years on trains have gone!
The daily morning paper
And it's crossword puzzle too -
Which never got too easy
'Cos I often missed some clue!
Was it really all so long ago
Since all that stuff got started?
Have I really been here all that time?
Well! It's really time we parted!
The scramble for the buses
As I got to Waterloo;
Or standing in the wind and rain
On the days we'd had to queue.
I've seen the young folks come and go
Seen weddings, deaths and births
And fashions change, like mini-skirts,
And diets change folks' girths.
Well, you've got your lives before you.
The future's yours to own.
But me? I'd like to know my wife
Whose life like mine has flown!
The one thing that we won't do
Is just sit on the ground -
Each day we'll try our best to
Spread some happiness around!
Perhaps we'll travel round the world;
See a grandchild who has grown!
Or stay at home to help folk out;
Visit folks who are alone.
So today, as now I leave you
-- Maybe you don't give a toss!
I'll wish you all the best of luck
As the Chinese say: Good Joss!
We hope you enjoyed this page of Poetry about retirement.
