No Miles Left

This frozen dusk

I have dared do what Frost could not -

In lifeless groves mounted by snow,

I lay me down to die -

The shine of white glistened by moon,

The rustling of comatose creatures

Are beguiling, pure, godly things -

There is no better time to depart living

Than in bleakest, beautiful midwinter.

All you languid poets dream of

Endless sleep in the frostbitten forest

But I am the one to do the thing at last

And do the thing in peace -

By the den of bears, I reveal my flesh

And heave down my bones and boots

To sleep in this perfect place