John Hall Wheelock, poet, scholar, and editor, was born 9 September 1886 in Rockaway, Long Island, N.Y.
I have been dying a long time
In this cool valley-land, this green bowl ringed by hills—
The cup of a giant flower whose petals are
These forests round about, still wet
From the fresh April rains.
Night draws on. It is growing dark.
The trees are silent. The hills are dark and silent.
All things fall silent, or look the other way,
When you are dying.
There is a delicate haze over everything.
Soft clouds are floating like water-lily pads
On the dark pool of the sky. Between them,
Stars come out…
Source: Poetry (November 1964)
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Photo by Rowland Scherman