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.