C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Winter Sleep

From ‘A Winter Swallow’

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.