I SAT IN THE SUNLIGHT

I sat in the sunlight thinking of life;

I sat there, dreaming of Death.

And a moth alit on the sun-dial's face,

And the birds sang sleepily,

And the leaves stirred,

And the sun lay warm on the hills,

And the afternoon grew old.

So, some day I knew the birds would sing,

And the leaves would stir,

And the afternoon grow old —

And I would not be there.

And the warmth went out of the day,

And a wind blew out of the West where I sat,

And the birds were still!