The Months have ends-the Years-a knot-
No Power can untie
To stretch a little further
A Skein of Misery-

The Earth lays back these tired lives
In her mysterious Drawers-
Too tenderly, that any doubt
An ultimate Repose-

The manner of the Children-
Who weary of the Day-
Themself-the noisy Plaything
They cannot put away-