I
I only live in the light:
Let there be light for me,
Or let the night come soon!
II
Winter,-
Summer’s rainbow-mantle of colour fades
Back, once again, to white.
III
I cry,
Echo answers faintly.
Echo is a poet.
IV
A breeze ruffles the rain-pool.
-Even our griefs cannot find rest.
Aimlessly up and down they are tossed by the wind.
V
Snowflakes rise and fall on the wind:
Even Winter has her white flocks of silent birds.
VI
I gazed through the mist:
Was it a goddess I saw?
-The mist silently lifted and showed me-an open tomb.
(John Gould Fletcher)
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