Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Second Book of Modern Verse. 1922.

The Lover envies an Old Man

I ENVY the feeble old man

Dozing there in the sun.

When all you can do is done

And life is a shattered plan,

What is there better than

Dozing in the sun?

I could grow very still

Like an old stone on a hill

And content me with the one

Thing that is ever kind,

The tender sun.

I could grow deaf and blind

And never hear her voice,

Nor think I could rejoice

With her in any place;

And I could forget her face,

And love only the sun.

Because when we are tired,

Very very tired,

And cannot again be fired

By any hope,

The sun is so comforting!

A little bird under the wing

Of its mother, is not so warm.

Give me only the scope

Of an old chair

Out in the air,

Let me rest there,

Moving not,

Loving not,

Only dozing my days till my days be done,

Under the sun.