Red Maples

<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN> <p id="id00382" style="margin-top: 4em"> Red Maples</p> <p id="id00383" style="margin-top: 3em">  In the last year I have learned<br/> How few men are worth my trust;<br/> I have seen the friend I loved<br/> Struck by death into the dust,<br/> And fears I never knew before<br/> Have knocked and knocked upon my door—<br/> "I shall hope little and ask for less,"<br/> I said, "There is no happiness."<br/></p> <p id="id00384">  I have grown wise at last—but how<br/> Can I hide the gleam on the willow-bough,<br/> Or keep the fragrance out of the rain<br/> Now that April is here again?<br/> When maples stand in a haze of fire<br/> What can I say to the old desire,<br/> What shall I do with the joy in me<br/> That is born out of agony?<br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />