 | Peace and other poems |  |
57
THE CHANGE
From my tall house, above the stream,
As daylight fades by slow degrees,
I watch the dying sunset gleam
Thro' line on line of leafless trees.
As daylight fades by slow degrees,
I watch the dying sunset gleam
Thro' line on line of leafless trees.
How changed my life, that even now
Was full of stir and jocund noise—
The homely task, the knitted brow,
The talk of laughter-loving boys.
Was full of stir and jocund noise—
The homely task, the knitted brow,
The talk of laughter-loving boys.
To-day I tarry with the dead,
Dig secrets out of dusty quires,
Trace rills of statecraft to their head,
And scrape the ash from smouldering fires.
Dig secrets out of dusty quires,
Trace rills of statecraft to their head,
And scrape the ash from smouldering fires.
58
And yet I grieve not, tho' I miss
The faltering word from beardless lip,
The guarded hours of leisured bliss,
The joys of gentle fellowship.
The faltering word from beardless lip,
The guarded hours of leisured bliss,
The joys of gentle fellowship.
I would be tranquil; I would learn
The secret of the quiet mind,
Not to look forward, not to yearn
For joys that I have left behind.
The secret of the quiet mind,
Not to look forward, not to yearn
For joys that I have left behind.
So in this dim and starless hour
I rest contented, glad to hear
The whisper of the rustling shower,
The soft plunge of the sleepless weir.
I rest contented, glad to hear
The whisper of the rustling shower,
The soft plunge of the sleepless weir.
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