In winter time one steadfast hope I had:
When rains should cease to fall,
And earth resummoned all
Her blossom-quests, I should again be glad.
And then my heart unlifted still, I said,
“Too pallid and too chill
These skies; wait yet until
The summer’s serene blue smiles overhead.”
Its red the rose surrenders to the leaves;
The orchard branches yield
Their fruit, and far a-field
The reapers sing amid their gathered sheaves.
The circle of the year is all complete:
And in her wintry hour,
In fruitage or in flower,
I know the world is very fair and sweet.
Yet, O, not here the peace I long for dwells:
But past the restful night
Of death, within the light
Of God, amid unfading asphodels.
(Ina Donna Coolbrith)
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Based on Topics: God Poems, World Poems, Light Poems, Death & Dying Poems, War & Peace Poems, Flowers Poems, Summer PoemsBased on Keywords: surrenders, asphodels, a-field, unlifted