For The Bed At Kelmscott

The wind's on the

And the night is a-cold,

And Thames runs chill'Twixt mead and hill.

But kind and

Is the old house

And my heart is warm'Midst winter's harm.

Rest then and rest,

And think of the best'Twixt summer and spring,

When all birds

In the town of the tree,

And ye in

And scarce dare move,

Lest earth and its

Should fade

Ere the full of the day.

I am old and have

Many things that have been;

Both grief and

And wane and

No tale I

Of ill or well,

But this I say:

Night treadeth on day,

And for worst or

Right good is rest.