Monday, November 8, 2010

The Ghost-yard of the Goldenrod / Bliss Carman

The Ghost-yard of the Goldenrod

When the first silent frost has trod
The ghost-yard of the goldenrod,

And laid the blight of his cold hand
Upon the warm autumnal land,

And all things wait the subtle change
That men call death, is it not strange

That I — without a care or need,
Who only am an idle weed —

Should wait unmoved, so frail, so bold,
The coming of the final cold!

Bliss Carman
from Later Poems, 1926

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the European Union]
Bliss Carman (by George J. Dance)

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