OLD AGE

I have heard the wild geese,

I have seen the leaves fall,

There was frost last night

On the garden wall.

It is gone to-day

And I hear the wind call.

The wind?... that is all.

If the swallow will light

When evening is near;

If the crane will not scream

Like a soul in fear;

I will think no more

Of the dying year,

And the wind, its seer.