I learned new lessons in that school of fear,
Life took a fresh perspective; sad and brave
The view is from the threshold of the grave.
In that long, backward glance I saw her clear
From fogs of gathering night, and all the show
Of small things that seemed great a while ago.
Our dreams of fame, the stubborn power we call
Our self-respect, our hopes of worldly good,
Our jealousies and fears, how in the flood
Of this new light they faded, poor and small;
Showing our pettiness beside God's truth,
Besides His age our poor, unlearned youth.
The earth yearns forth, impatient for the days
Of its maturity, the ample sweets
Of Summer's fulness; and its great heart beats
With a fierce restlessness, for Spring delays
Seeing her giddy reign end all too soon,
Her bud-crown ravished by the hand of June.
And I,--I shall be happy,--promise me
This one small thing, Beloved, for I long
For happiness as the caged bird for song.
Not where four walls close in the melody
I want the fresh, sweet air, the water's gush,
The strong, sane life with thee, the summer hush.
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