Christopher John Brennan

(1 November 1870 – 5 October 1932 / Sydney / Australia)

How Old Is My Heart, How Old? - Poem by Christopher John Brennan

How old is my heart, how old, how old is my heart,
and did I ever go forth with song when the morn was new?
I seem to have trod on many ways: I seem to have left
I know not how many homes; and to leave each
was still to leave a portion of mine own heart,
of my old heart whose life I had spent to make that home
and all I had was regret, and a memory.

So I sit and muse in this wayside harbour and wait
till I hear the gathering cry of the ancient winds and again
I must up and out and leave the members of the hearth
to crumble silently into white ash and dust,
and see the road stretch bare and pale before me: again
my garment and my house shall be the enveloping winds
and my heart be fill'd wholly with their old pitiless cry.

Comments about How Old Is My Heart, How Old? by Christopher John Brennan

  • Gold Star - 46,883 Points Edward Kofi Louis (6/27/2015 5:12:00 PM)

    So i sit and muse in this wayside. Nice work. (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 13,400 Points Edgar Stevens (6/27/2015 7:30:00 AM)

    heart does not get is reborn every sunrise... (Report) Reply

  • Silver Star - 3,751 Points K.c. Ford (6/27/2015 3:03:00 AM)

    The more I read from this poet, the more I appreciate his ability. Shame that he died in poverty. (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »

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Poem Submitted: Monday, March 1, 2010

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