Friends

​

Some Stars strode by my house last night.

The Sun knocked at my door to-day.

Outside the snow is walking, right

Across my Private Way,

With none to say him Nay.

 

Some paces down my path the Sea

Is tumbling in his tousled bed,

And singing like a lusty He

With victuals comforted,

With country wine and bread.

 

I will not pull my curtain down

To keep the Sun or Stars without;

I will not with a musty frown

Shovel the Snow about,

Nor tell him to get out.

 

But I will go and walk along

The little circle of my beach,

And tell the Sea I like his song,

And try if I can reach

The measure of his speech.