Classic Poem

Some day this quest
Shall cease;
Some day,
For aye,
This heart shall rest
In peace.
Sometimes — ofttimes — I almost feel
The calm upon my sense steal,
So soft, and all but hear
The dead leaves rustle near
And sigh to be
At rest with me.
Though I behold
The ashen branches tossing to and fro,
Somehow I only vaguely know
The wind is rude and cold.
Some day this quest
Shall cease;
Some day,
For aye,
This heart shall rest
In peace.
Sometimes — ofttimes — I almost feel
The calm upon my senses steal,
So soft, and all but hear
The dead leaves rustle near
And sigh to be
At rest with me.
Though I behold
The ashen branches tossing to and fro,
Somehow I only vaguely know
The wind is rude and cold.