Of feverish toil___with quiet pulse to lie
And watch with folded hands the upper main,
Where ships of soft, white cloud go floating by.
Neither to work nor thinly! to-morrow's care
Folded and wrapped, and closely laid away;
To make no effort, just to drink the air,
Whose warm, sweet kiss round my temples play.
Some viewless sorrow may be stealing nigh;
I will not weep for grief I do not know.
I will not shrink beneath this April sky,
And shiver at the thought of April snow.
A bird sings yonder on a leafless tree;,
His songs are merry___would they be so gay
Did he sit pondering on storms to be___
On sleety rain to come another day?
You tell me that the world is going wrong___
What then? I cannot stay the surging tide;
Its many waters have a flow too strong;
I cannot turn a stream so deep and wide.
Then let me rest; enough, just now, is life;
Let labor and ambition wholly cease___
All loads laid down, hushed every thought of strife;
For this one hour I crave but perfect peace.
__Ellen P. Allerton.
Walls of Corn and Other Poems
Ellen P. Allerton
(Hiawatha, KS: Harrington Printing Company. 1894)