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Edwin Arlington Robinson - The Long Race

Up the old hill to the old house again 
Where fifty years ago the friend was young 
Who should be waiting somewhere there among 
Old things that least remembered most remain, 
He toiled on with a pleasure that was pain
To think how soon asunder would be flung 
The curtain half a century had hung 
Between the two ambitions they had slain. 

They dredged an hour for words, and then were done. 
“Good-bye!… You have the same old weather-vane— 
Your little horse that’s always on the run.” 
And all the way down back to the next train, 
Down the old hill to the old road again, 
It seemed as if the little horse had won. 

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Added: Jun 3 2005 | Viewed: 207 times | Comments and analysis of The Long Race by Edwin Arlington Robinson Comments (0)

The Long Race - Comments and Information

Poet: Edwin Arlington Robinson
Poem: The Long Race
Poem of the Day: Nov 30 2008
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