I STOOD long time and listened to the wind
That tossed the fallen foliage o'er and o'er;
Long time I stood; then turned within to bind
An evergreen upon the open door.
When winter comes to sweep across the floor
And freeze the panes perforce the huswife mind
Shuts-to the autumnal door and there reclined
Battens on books till summer comes once more.
I cannot stop her; turning to the shelves
Her idleness she feeds on other men;
Takes what she finds, complaining not and delves
In mines deep-sunken with the golden pen;
Then weary grows and longs to see again
The spirits of the sky, the woodland elves.