DEAR, near and true, -- no truer Time himself Can prove you, tho' he make you evermore Dearer and nearer, as the rapid of life Shoots to the fall, -- take this and pray that he Who wrote it, honoring your sweet faith in him, May trust himself; and after praise and scorn, As one who feels the immeasurable world, Attain the wise indifference of the wise; And after autumn past -- if left to pass His autumn into seeming-leafless days -- Draw toward the long frost and longest night, Wearing his wisdom lightly, like the fruit Which in our winter woodland looks a flower. |