Verse > Anthologies > Higginson and Bigelow, eds. > American Sonnets
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Higginson and Bigelow, comps.  American Sonnets.  1891.
 
“I, who am young”
By Anna (Matlack) Richards (1835–1900)
 
I, WHO am young, let me not crave too much
The burden of content, not too much strain
The shining mirage of Desire to touch:
Fruition’s rest is full of nameless pain.
And yet, O End! O Rest! if there be such        5
In all the world,—come in the mighty reign
Of autumn on this silent inland plain,
Come to a spirit toiling over much.
I, who am old, let not my heart annul,
By futile hope, the gain of suffering years,        10
Nor make the fine gold of their wisdom dull
With youth’s sweet passion of unfruitful tears:
And yet, in this fair spring, with Nature’s tongue,
I cry aloud,—Would God I too were young!
 
 
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