What do you think?
Rate this book
Coming into Eighty: Poems
In this collection, May Sarton takes on the subject of herself in old age. Here are Sarton's observations and reflections, many of which came to her as if by magic during the small hours of the morning. Along with the daily events of writing a letter, appreciating her flowers, taking care of her car Pierrot, these poems wrestle with the larger questions of life and death, the difficulties and rewards of living alone.
72 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1994
24 people are currently reading
95 people want to read
About the author
May Sarton
154 books596 followersMay Sarton was born on May 3, 1912, in Wondelgem, Belgium, and grew up in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Her first volume of poetry, Encounters in April, was published in 1937 and her first novel, The Single Hound, in 1938. An accomplished memoirist, Sarton boldly came out as a lesbian in her 1965 book Mrs. Stevens Hears the Mermaids Singing. Her later memoir, Journal of a Solitude, was an account of her experiences as a female artist. Sarton died in York, Maine, on July 16, 1995.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
Read
April 24, 2018A Julie musing: I think I'm going to revert to my own rating system, because those five stars never suit my desire to be splitting hairs into infinity. My mind seems to demand a much finer, more precise aim than, "meh" or "superlative", which is what the 5 stars represent for me. Especially in poetry, the gradations are too fine.
7.5/10 stars
A lovely little book of 36 poems that May Sarton wrote in her 80th year. This is also my first Sarton. (I had ordered a handful of her earlier work from the library and this one came first ... and knowing my library may be the only one I'll see!)
It was a prescient present from the library system, for I enjoyed this very much, in the pre-dawn light, when I let Max the Dawn-Stalker (our cat) out. And I came upon Sarton letting her own cat in, and sitting down to write her poems: a nice symmetry.
These poems are dedicated to Pierrot, my Himalayan cat, a bluepoint with blue-gray head, paws and tail, the rest of him an elegant cream color, his huge eyes sapphire blue. Between one and three every morning he woke me with imperious mews to be let in, so I had to get up, go down a steep flight of stairs, and unlock the heavy front door. By the time I got upstairs again I was wide awake and these poems made their appearances, a new kind of poem for me. They came of their own free will and I had only to accept radical change and use it as best I could. Sometimes they astonished me, they were so unlike what I had written before. I jotted down a few lines and went back to sleep.
And I, on the other hand, ordered by Max's imperious mews to be let out, wake and make my way down a steep flight of stairs, and unlock the heavy back door; and by the time all this is done, I am wide awake, and I sit down in my study downstairs to read these poems.
This is my favourite from this collection: (Try reading it in the pre-dawn light. It makes quite a different impact than in the broad light of day.)
Coming into eighty
I slow my ship down
For a safe landing.
It has been battered,
One sail torn, the rudder
Sometimes wobbly.
We are hardly a glorious sight.
It has been a long voyage
Through time, travail and triumph.
Eighty years
Of learning what to be
And how to become it.
One day the ship will decompose
and then what will become of me?
Only a breath
Gone into nothingness
Alone
Or a spirit of air and fire
Set free?
Who knows?
Greet us at landfall
The old ship and me,
But we can't stay anchored.
Soon we must sail
On the last mysterious voyage
Everybody takes
Toward death.
Without my ship there,
Wish me well.
7.5/10 stars
A lovely little book of 36 poems that May Sarton wrote in her 80th year. This is also my first Sarton. (I had ordered a handful of her earlier work from the library and this one came first ... and knowing my library may be the only one I'll see!)
It was a prescient present from the library system, for I enjoyed this very much, in the pre-dawn light, when I let Max the Dawn-Stalker (our cat) out. And I came upon Sarton letting her own cat in, and sitting down to write her poems: a nice symmetry.
These poems are dedicated to Pierrot, my Himalayan cat, a bluepoint with blue-gray head, paws and tail, the rest of him an elegant cream color, his huge eyes sapphire blue. Between one and three every morning he woke me with imperious mews to be let in, so I had to get up, go down a steep flight of stairs, and unlock the heavy front door. By the time I got upstairs again I was wide awake and these poems made their appearances, a new kind of poem for me. They came of their own free will and I had only to accept radical change and use it as best I could. Sometimes they astonished me, they were so unlike what I had written before. I jotted down a few lines and went back to sleep.
And I, on the other hand, ordered by Max's imperious mews to be let out, wake and make my way down a steep flight of stairs, and unlock the heavy back door; and by the time all this is done, I am wide awake, and I sit down in my study downstairs to read these poems.
This is my favourite from this collection: (Try reading it in the pre-dawn light. It makes quite a different impact than in the broad light of day.)
Coming into eighty
I slow my ship down
For a safe landing.
It has been battered,
One sail torn, the rudder
Sometimes wobbly.
We are hardly a glorious sight.
It has been a long voyage
Through time, travail and triumph.
Eighty years
Of learning what to be
And how to become it.
One day the ship will decompose
and then what will become of me?
Only a breath
Gone into nothingness
Alone
Or a spirit of air and fire
Set free?
Who knows?
Greet us at landfall
The old ship and me,
But we can't stay anchored.
Soon we must sail
On the last mysterious voyage
Everybody takes
Toward death.
Without my ship there,
Wish me well.
July 6, 2014
May Sarton offers her readers a view from 80 in this collection of poems. I loved the poems that focus on themes related to aging: the decay of the body, the loss of friends, the role of memory, the passing of time. She has honed her craft for decades, and she uses her skills to great affect. After suffering a stroke and having limited energy, Sarton writes poems that convey the essence of her experience. The style is minimalist, but her skill allows great insight with a handful of images and a few well-chosen words.
My favorites:
"Coming Into Eighty" for its image of a worn ship coming into port.
"I Wanted Poems to Come" about the tension between the vibrancy of imagination and the limits of the aging body.
"The O's of November" with its attention to the boundary between the bounties of harvest time and the sleep of winter.
"Friendship and Illness" for its observations about the nature of long-term friendships.
"The Teacher" for its meditations on the role of pain.
"Getting Dressed" because it beautifully laments diminishing energy.
"Friend of Enemy" for its complex attitude towards one's own aging body.
"Wanting to Die" for its bold confession and sweet vulnerability.
"The Tides" for its perspective on time and memory. Here is a blog post I wrote in response to this particular poem:
http://thegenerationaboveme.blogspot....
"Bliss" for its celebration of life.
"The Ender, The Beginner" for its mix of wisdom and humor.
"Birthday Present" for it's zen-like quality.
I give these poems 5/5, but there are some occasional poems and some poems about very specific relationships that are harder for me to connect with. But I love, love, love those listed and find them worth reading and rereading.
My favorites:
"Coming Into Eighty" for its image of a worn ship coming into port.
"I Wanted Poems to Come" about the tension between the vibrancy of imagination and the limits of the aging body.
"The O's of November" with its attention to the boundary between the bounties of harvest time and the sleep of winter.
"Friendship and Illness" for its observations about the nature of long-term friendships.
"The Teacher" for its meditations on the role of pain.
"Getting Dressed" because it beautifully laments diminishing energy.
"Friend of Enemy" for its complex attitude towards one's own aging body.
"Wanting to Die" for its bold confession and sweet vulnerability.
"The Tides" for its perspective on time and memory. Here is a blog post I wrote in response to this particular poem:
http://thegenerationaboveme.blogspot....
"Bliss" for its celebration of life.
"The Ender, The Beginner" for its mix of wisdom and humor.
"Birthday Present" for it's zen-like quality.
I give these poems 5/5, but there are some occasional poems and some poems about very specific relationships that are harder for me to connect with. But I love, love, love those listed and find them worth reading and rereading.
July 31, 2018
“We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.”
― May Sarton
I have been working my way through most of Sarton's writings over the last few years since discovering her journals. The journals and her poetry are my quiet-time reading, a contemplative window into a fascinating life. May Sarton is not always kind, and the ways that she allows her own complexity of character shine through in her writing delights me. She is also a role model for speaking truths about aging - with no sugarcoating - and the joys that continue to revitalize her at 80 years old and beyond. Having finished this book of poems, I will now be turning to Encore: A Journal of the Eightieth Year, which seems perfect to follow Coming into Eighty: Poems.
― May Sarton
I have been working my way through most of Sarton's writings over the last few years since discovering her journals. The journals and her poetry are my quiet-time reading, a contemplative window into a fascinating life. May Sarton is not always kind, and the ways that she allows her own complexity of character shine through in her writing delights me. She is also a role model for speaking truths about aging - with no sugarcoating - and the joys that continue to revitalize her at 80 years old and beyond. Having finished this book of poems, I will now be turning to Encore: A Journal of the Eightieth Year, which seems perfect to follow Coming into Eighty: Poems.
May 16, 2017
We have so few voices that tell us what to expect when we age. May Sarton is one of the few, and we are lucky to have her record of what old age is like. Whether in her journals, or her poetry, her clear voice articulates the challenges and rewards of the end of life.
Whether it's the delights of 'Lunch in the Garden' or the power of memory in 'The Tides', she is able to put into words what many of us feel, but are unable to express: the joy of a warm summer day or the pull of memories that we are unable to resist and are swept away by.
I'm reading it to get ready.
Whether it's the delights of 'Lunch in the Garden' or the power of memory in 'The Tides', she is able to put into words what many of us feel, but are unable to express: the joy of a warm summer day or the pull of memories that we are unable to resist and are swept away by.
I'm reading it to get ready.
August 12, 2023
A few poems in this collection are very striking. I like the poems which focus on pain and loss the most. These poems felt unique and powerful. I am interested in aging thematically. The pain of aging and just pain, in general, is a fascinating motif to me.
Many poems at the front of the book focus on nature and beauty in a way that felt cliche to me. The more negative poems hit harder, and the more positive ones felt forced.
My favorites were: rinsing the eye, all souls 1991, the absence of God, the scream, guilt, getting dressed, friend or enemy, wanting to die
Many poems at the front of the book focus on nature and beauty in a way that felt cliche to me. The more negative poems hit harder, and the more positive ones felt forced.
My favorites were: rinsing the eye, all souls 1991, the absence of God, the scream, guilt, getting dressed, friend or enemy, wanting to die
September 3, 2019
May Sarton has authored many books but I found this a quiet joy, and a way to think of aging. It is about the Now, the Present -- the joys and the Remembrances. Technically astute and filled with intricate truths, they are a great pleasure.
July 19, 2022
This book is a charming collection of thoughts and I love the connection between the minute and the existential. Very relatable, and I honestly feel like the sentiments about growing old are applicable to anyone at any age who has come to realize the fleeting nature of time.
September 16, 2020
Sarton towards the very end still so able to capture it all so well.
August 5, 2022
A long voyage in life put in such tender words! I feel a special kind of joy when I discover good poetry. My second read for Sarton and surly won’t be my last. ✨
January 6, 2023
I read this as a companion piece to the author’s journals which I am reading. It reflected her journal thoughts on aging.
February 22, 2024
I spent a cozy, tender day reading these. 3.5 ⭐
"The small joys last
And even outlast an earthquake.
I give you these for love
- and for hope's sake"
"The small joys last
And even outlast an earthquake.
I give you these for love
- and for hope's sake"
July 7, 2025
"Oh please remind me of your laughter
I need it now,
To help me balance so much lost
Against so much won,
And rejoice."
Really enjoyed quite a few poems in this one.
I need it now,
To help me balance so much lost
Against so much won,
And rejoice."
Really enjoyed quite a few poems in this one.
December 21, 2025
reading it at the ocean, where all Sarton poetry should be read
Read
January 12, 2009mostly vampiring her yeatsian later in life verse structure to get my pen going. from my somerville library gift-swag-haul. i wish i'd taken all of her books they had, they were so little and so many, i'm dum
March 1, 2016
I first read this collection a few years ago. I enjoyed reading these poems again (early to mid-October 2015). May Sarton tells her readers: "These poems are minimal because my life is reduced to essences." Spoken from the perspective of an eighty year old poet. Lovely.
October 22, 2009
Maybe I could be a poet.
January 1, 2014
May's book brings her full circle with life. I consider this one of her best books. We can't help but reflect on whether we have lived a good full life and if not, how we should.
January 7, 2015
"After long silence
An old poet
Singing again,
I am a mage myself
Joy leaps to my throat
Glory be to God!"
The first of 36 poems in this slim volume. What else to say?
An old poet
Singing again,
I am a mage myself
Joy leaps to my throat
Glory be to God!"
The first of 36 poems in this slim volume. What else to say?
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews