Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall (14 September 1883 – 19 April 1922 / Gunnersbury, London)
Bartimeus Grown Old
YEA, I am he that dwelt beside this tomb.
I was a child. God smote me from the sun.
A little while, I had forgot to run
Under the rain-sweet roof of almond bloom.
I had forgotten summer, and the flaw
Ruffling the gray sea and the yellowed grain.
Now I am old and I forget again,
But a man came and touched me, and I saw.
Long years he dowered me with imperial day,
Bright-blossomed night and all the stars in trust.
Now I am blind again, and by the way
Wait still to catch his footsteps in the dust.
Surely he comes?–and he will hear my cry,
Though he were stricken and dim and old as I.
Comments about this poem (Bartimeus Grown Old by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings