When “Pop” is bald and my hair is white, And we’re nearing the end of the long twilight, ’Twill not seem cold in the darksome wood For we have been friends with solitude. And often yearned in the shadows cold For the friendly smiles the gods withold. Hearts all the braver for the feel of pain, For a rose grows sweeter every time it rains.
A few glad notes from a comrade’s song We’ll sing in the night as we go along. For we carry the blossoms a frost ne’er blights And we’ll have no morning till we’ve said goodnight.
When I had left the city street And lost the open road, I breathed contentedly and deep As one who shifts a load. I wasn’t caring where I went Or where I meant to go. But I was tossing from my path The brown leaves drifted so.
When I was wondering aimlessly Just what my quest would bring. I saw a pink arbutus bloom And heard a warbler sing. The sky seemed blue and higher here Than it was back in town. And Oh! the wind delighted me, The way it blew around.
And then I sought the grey glen road. Went with it thru the wood. And in its long green isles I walked And worshipfully stood. My neighbor questioned from the fence What I had seen out there? I said I sought adventure And I found it everywhere.
He said goodbye, you hobbled out, The Doctor shut the door. From your face I knew he’d told you Things we had guessed before.
I saw you slightly tremble But I reached you ere you fell. Your fixèd face said many things More than you cared to tell.
One does not receive death warrants As one would a courtesy. After awhile your head went up And you talked it all out with me.
Brave little woman I knew you Knew you were never afraid. Not for yourself, You forbid me-- To speak and my questions you staid.
All I could give was silence. Your pride forbade me much. Tho’ I longed to bear your burden Even to be your crutch.
I’d like to lift the threads of life And weave them on a loom And make a pattern beautiful, As any day in June.
I’d put ten thousand violets And shimmering leaves of green, Around the edge and over it, To hide each vulgar seam.
Because, death brushed me with dark wings, Reluctant passed me by, I take the threads of life again And weave and smile and sigh.
But if I had a God-like power Omnipotence of mind, To put the tho’t of suffering And death a league behind.