Afternoon

When I am old, and comforted,

 And done with this desire,

With Memory to share my bed

 And Peace to share my fire,

I'll comb my hair in scalloped bands

 Beneath my laundered cap,

And watch my cool and fragile hands

 Lie light upon my lap.

And I will have a sprigged gown

 With lace to kiss my throat;

I'll draw my curtain to the town,

 And hum a purring note.

And I'll forget the way of tears,

 And rock, and stir my tea.

But oh, I wish those blessed years

 Were further than they be!