The wind’s on the world
And the night is a-cold,
And the Thames runs chill ‘Twixt mead and hill.
But kind and dear
Is the old house here
And my heart is warm ‘Midst winter’s harm.
Rest then and rest,
And think of the best ‘Twixt summer and spring,
When all birds sing In the town of the tree,
And ye in me
And scarce dare move,
Lest earth and its love
Should fade away
Ere the full of the day.
I am old and have seen many things that have been;
Both grief and peace
And wane and increase
No tale I tell Of ill or well,
But this I say:
Night treadeth on the day,
And for worst or best Right good is rest.
~ For the Bed at Kelmscott –
