Poems (Van Rensselaer)/The Rolling Earth
THE ROLLING EARTH
Tired of the star-shine, impatient of noon,
Rushing through dawn on a search for the moon,
Craving the daytime, desiring the night,
Ever I flee from the dark, from the light.
Questing the seasons I circle the sun:
Boreas wearies me—winter, have done!
Zephyr in vain lays his touch on my breast,
Autumn allureth—nay, winter is best!
Children of men, whom I brought unto birth,
Hope not for peace who are dust of the earth.
Rushing through dawn on a search for the moon,
Craving the daytime, desiring the night,
Ever I flee from the dark, from the light.
Questing the seasons I circle the sun:
Boreas wearies me—winter, have done!
Zephyr in vain lays his touch on my breast,
Autumn allureth—nay, winter is best!
Children of men, whom I brought unto birth,
Hope not for peace who are dust of the earth.