summery of young and old poem by kingsley
Answers
Answer:
When all the world is young, lad,
And all the trees are green;
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
And round the world away;
Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day.
When all the world is old, lad,
And all the trees are brown;
And all the sport is stale, lad,
And all the wheels run down;
Creep home, and take your place there,
The spent and maimed among:
God grant you find one face there,
You loved when all was young.
Now, let's break the poem down just a bit. If memory serves, this poem originally appeared as a song sung by a character in the Reverend's book entitled, "The Water-Babies". The gravity of the song, in my opinion, is best understood when you read the book and are able to understand the full context as a result. For the purposes of this blog, however, we'll just be doing a basic analysis using only the connotation and symbolism.
Before we get into the specifics of symbols (which, in the case of this poem, shouldn't be a particularly difficult explanation), I'd like to touch on the meter and rhyme scheme. If you are familiar with the concepts of meter, you may have noticed that this poem is set to what would seem to be an altered iambic trimeter. The alteration is very slight: a substitution of a single tribrach in place of the last iambic metra of every odd line. ((If you're unfamiliar with meter and would like the concept explained, then please let me know by leaving a comment, and I will make a post explaining the basics as soon as I can.)) The easy sort of bounce and obvious beat that the song has is provided by the rising stress of each disyllabic unit. The simple rhyme scheme (ABABCDCD EFEFGHGH) also contributes to the easiness of the song and prevents the subject from feeling overly forced by use of other unnecessarily more intricate schemes.
Alright, now that I've successfully melted your brain out your ears with all that technical nonsense, we can move on to the easy part! The analysis of this poem is simple. Even before shattering the poem and picking out connotation/symbolism of keywords, I'm sure that you can wager a guess towards the overall intent of this poem.
This poem is, very clearly, about the dissimilarities of youth and old age. There is a certain sentimental connotation to be further explored, of course, but the basis of the poem is rooted in the differences.
In the first stanza we address youth. A spry horse to carry along the boot, and the idea that "every dog [has] his day" paired alongside the comments of a young world and queenly lasses provide us with a clear idea that the topic we broach is that of youth. The lines "young blood must have its course, lad, and every dog his day" come across as a call to action, demanding perhaps a busier and more productive youth, one in which much is seen and accomplished because in you "every dog [has] his day". Additionally, we are treated to a slue of natural imagery in the form of green trees, geese, swans, the horse, etc. The allusion to a simple, natural order is a compelling one. This is continued in the second stanza, though the trees are marked as being brown, the sport of the previously accelerated and youthful life has gone stale, the cart wheels are run down, and the lad is forced to "creep home" and take his place among the "spent" and "maimed" (read: world weary) occupants. The point is driven home particularly well by the continued use of "lad" at the end of the first and third lines in the second stanza, creating a marked contrast in the youthful audience (the "lad" and the discussed topic: age). The final lines provide the wish that, God willing, you are alongside the one that you love (likely one who was found in your youth).
mark me
madam
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Being a psychologist, however, I wouldn't have written the first nor the second stanza in such a vein. That is, youth isn't all that great, unless they are unusually lucky, nor is old age that grim, unless they are unlucky.
Life is like a ladder, we start (unusually!) at the top (half blinded by the light) and we descend gradually, more or less happily - according to our temperament and evolutionary scale - accepting the chages as they come along.
Each age can have its rewards and its drawbacks.
Some make a mess of life at whatever age.
Nothing is ever drastic.
Bad health the only possible impediment.
Apart from my strong query, the poem is professionaly rendered.