Classic Poem

They say to me, " There is
A roaring god outside
Beating the trees! "
I go hurriedly
And find
Two unfortunates
Cowering in the wind.
I think of this
As I lie here, warm
Watching the blinding white
That was saffron
Change to steel blue
Behind shaking trees.

I raise my head and
Sight leaps twenty miles
To the bleak horizon,
" But my desires, "
I say to myself
" Are thirty years
Behind all this. "

It is late.
My wife comes out
And tucks me in
Telling me
Not to hurry —
— Not to hurry!
She brings our baby
And puts him
In the bed beside me.
I move over
Into the cold sheets
To make room for him
And thinking
Of the freezing poor
I consider myself
Happy —