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Poem
December 18, 1885
Alma Record
Alma, Gratiot County, Michigan
What is this article about?
A melancholic poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox portraying a lonely woman's lament at age forty-eight, reflecting on shattered hopes, faded joys, and the desolation of her remaining years amid twilight imagery.
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Full Text
At Forty-Eight
At twilight, vis-a-vis with fate,
The sad, unhappy and alone:
Her footsteps numbered forty-eight,
No other tally marks the stone.
No tender voice robbed age of gloom,
No smiling faces cheered her sight—
There only glided through the room
The phantom of a dead delight.
"How dim and drear the pathway seems,"
She said, "to me at forty-eight;
Long since I wakened from my dreams—
I seek for naught; for nothing wait.
"I am like one who blindly gropes
Toward fading sunsets in the West;
Behind me lie youth's shattered hopes,
What can I ask for now but rest?
"Some joys I sought with heart on fire
Would find me now but all too late—
I watched ambition's funeral pyre
Burn down ere I was forty-eight.
"With naught to hope, expect or win,
This lonely lot remains to me;
To count the wrecks of what has been
And know that nothing more can be."
Too sad to weep, too tired to pray,
Alone she sat at forty-eight,
While sunset colors paled to gray—
How desolate, how desolate!
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
At twilight, vis-a-vis with fate,
The sad, unhappy and alone:
Her footsteps numbered forty-eight,
No other tally marks the stone.
No tender voice robbed age of gloom,
No smiling faces cheered her sight—
There only glided through the room
The phantom of a dead delight.
"How dim and drear the pathway seems,"
She said, "to me at forty-eight;
Long since I wakened from my dreams—
I seek for naught; for nothing wait.
"I am like one who blindly gropes
Toward fading sunsets in the West;
Behind me lie youth's shattered hopes,
What can I ask for now but rest?
"Some joys I sought with heart on fire
Would find me now but all too late—
I watched ambition's funeral pyre
Burn down ere I was forty-eight.
"With naught to hope, expect or win,
This lonely lot remains to me;
To count the wrecks of what has been
And know that nothing more can be."
Too sad to weep, too tired to pray,
Alone she sat at forty-eight,
While sunset colors paled to gray—
How desolate, how desolate!
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
What sub-type of article is it?
Elegy
What themes does it cover?
Death Mourning
What keywords are associated?
Aging
Loneliness
Lost Youth
Reflection
Forty Eight
What entities or persons were involved?
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Poem Details
Title
At Forty Eight
Author
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Subject
Reflection On Aging And Loneliness At Forty Eight
Form / Style
Rhymed Quatrains
Key Lines
At Twilight, Vis A Vis With Fate,
The Sad, Unhappy And Alone:
Her Footsteps Numbered Forty Eight,
No Other Tally Marks The Stone.
Too Sad To Weep, Too Tired To Pray,
Alone She Sat At Forty Eight,