stubble burning 133
And take no quiet measure
Of human life. -- I know,
I know this trite complaint
Is half of it the way
The mind takes when it's tired
Or frightened. Still it's so,
All this we have desired
Builds higher the mind's load,
I mean even when good
And calmly understood.
A long day on the road
Has ended in this night
Settling in around
The house and the one sound,
The friction of a pen
On paper by lamplight,
Saying I'm home again.
Now that I've suddenly struck
The last part of the way
With something still to say --
Now that I'm growing old
(And still fi nd with a shock
The spirit never wise
For long, although with luck
It has so far when blasted
Come slowly back, and lasted)
Before I am stopped cold,
I will make here and there
Along the way ahead
(And then let be, together
With whatever else of mine
I leave behind to weather,
Including a daily curse
Posted on likely walls