A Vision of Rest
Some day this quest Shall cease; Some day, For aye, This heart shall rest In peace. Sometimes—ofttimes—I almost feel The calm upon my senses steal, So soft, and all but hear The dead leaves rustle near And sign to be At rest with me. Though I behold The ashen branches tossing to and fro, Somehow I only vaguely know The wind is rude and cold.
This poem is in the public domain.