Once I got up early while the cold stars clustered
      High in the sky before the silver of the dawn,
I gathered all the little sad thoughts I had fostered,
      Climbed to the wind's clean flank and was gone

Over lane and lawn.

 
There where the meadow grass hugged the gaunt hollow
      And the mist lay folded in a pile upon the ground,

I tipped them out suddenly so they couldn't follow,
      All my wistful wonderings, and quickly turned around

    And left without a sound.
 

"Now I am free," I said. "That part is ended.
      Well rid am I of the trouble-making brood.
No rebellious murmurs to be argued with and tended,
      Maybe I can think a bit of friendship and food

    And dwell in quietude."

 
But ere I reached home on the wind's back flitting
      I knew it would be desolate without the thoughts I had,
And so, when I beheld them on the doorstep sitting,
      (There's nothing like your own thoughts, be they sweet

or sad)
    Ah, but I was glad!

^__Grace Strickler Dawson