Day's End

When I am weary, throng'd with the cares of the
vain day
That tease as harsh winds tease the unresting autumn
boughs,
I still my mind at evening and put all else away
But the image of my Love, where all my hopes I house.
The thoughts of her fall gently as the gentleness of snow
That after storm makes smoothness in the ways that are

rough;
White with a hush of beauty over my heart they grow
To the peace of which my heart can never hold enough.
7 op. Sent from Egypt with a Fair Robe of
Tissue to a Sicilian Vinedresser.