THE OLD CALENDAR
A SHEAF of days this ribbon held,
A whole long year
Of shade and shine and snow and bloom
Was gathered here
On this old calendar.
A whole long year
Of shade and shine and snow and bloom
Was gathered here
On this old calendar.
It dwindled slowly, leaf by leaf;
Just like a rose
Whose full-blown petals seek the sod
Was each day's close
On this old calendar.
Just like a rose
Whose full-blown petals seek the sod
Was each day's close
On this old calendar.
And now—the end. And there is left
For witness brief,
The painted scroll and silken band
That held the sheaf
On this old calendar.
For witness brief,
The painted scroll and silken band
That held the sheaf
On this old calendar.
But somewhere, sometime we will find
The gathered leaves
Bound in a record of our lives—
The chaff and sheaves
On this old calendar.
The gathered leaves
Bound in a record of our lives—
The chaff and sheaves
On this old calendar.