Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Edith MatildaThomas

1171 Winter Sleep

I KNOW it must be winter (though I sleep)—

I know it must be winter, for I dream

I dip my bare feet in the running stream,

And flowers are many, and the grass grows deep.

I know I must be old (how age deceives!)—

I know I must be old, for, all unseen,

My heart grows young, as autumn fields grow green,

When late rains patter on the falling sheaves.

I know I must be tired (and tired souls err)—

I know I must be tired, for all my soul

To deeds of daring beats a glad, faint roll,

As storms the riven pine to music stir.

I know I must be dying (Death draws near)—

I know I must be dying, for I crave

Life—life, strong life, and think not of the grave,

And turf-bound silence, in the frosty year.