What do I care for morning, For a shivering aspen tree,
For sunflowers and sumac, Opening greedily?

What do I care for morning, For the glare of the rising sun,
For a sparrow’s noisy prating, For another day begun?

Give me the beauty of evening, The cool consummation of night,
And the moon like a love-sick lady, Listless and wan and white.

Give me a little valley, Huddled beside a hill,
Like a monk in a monastery, Safe and contented and still.

Give me the white road glistening, A strand of pale moon’s hair,
And the tall hemlocks towering, Dark as the moon is fair.

Oh what do I care for the morning, Naked and newly born,
Night is here, yielding and tender, What do I care for dawn!

Helen Johnson (1906 – 1995)