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I Sit and Think

by
 I sit beside the fire and think
of all that I have seen,
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
in summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun
and wind upon my hair.
I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be when winter comes without a spring that I shall never see.
For still there are so many things that I have never seen: in every wood in every spring there is a different green.
I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago, and people who will see a world that I shall never know.
But all the while I sit and think of times there were before, I listen for returning feet and voices at the door.

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