Weariness.

This April sun has wakened into cheer
    The wintry paths of thought, and tinged with gold
    These threadbare leaves of fancy brown and old.
This is for us the wakening of the year
    And May's sweet breath will draw the waiting soul
    To where in distance lies the longed-for goal.

The summer life will still all questioning,
    The leaves will whisper peace, and calm will be
    The wild, vast, blue, illimitable sea.
And we shall hush our murmurings, and bring
    To Nature, green below and blue above,
    A whole life's worshipping, a whole life's love.

We will not speak of sometime fretting fears,
    We will not think of aught that may arise
    In future hours to cloud our golden skies.
Some souls there are who love their woes and tears,
    Gaining their joy by contrast, but for thee
    And me, Beloved, peace is ecstasy.

It was not always so, there was a time
    When I would choose the rocky mountain way,
    And climb the hills of doubt to find the day.
Fresh effort brought fresh zest, and winter's rime
    Chilled not but crowned endeavor, and the heat
    Of summer thrilled, and made the pulses beat.

But now I am so weary that I turn
    From labor with a shudder, and from pain
    As from an enemy; I see no gain
In suffering, and cleansing fires must burn
    As keenly as desire, so let me know
    Quiet with thee, and twilight's afterglow.

I, who have boasted of my strength and will,
    And ventured daring flights, and stood alone
    In fearless, flushed defiance, I have grown
Humble, and seek another hand to fill
    Life's cup, and other eyes to pierce the skies
    Of Wisdom's dear, sad, mighty mysteries.

Ah! I will lie so quiet in thine arms
    I will not stir thee; and thy whisperings
    Shall teach me patience, and so many things
I have not learned as yet. And all alarms
    Will melt in peace when, safe from tempest's rage
    My wind-tossed ship has found its anchorage.