Explore "To W. E. Henley" by Robert Louis Stevenson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE year runs through her phases; rain and sun, / Springtime and summer pass; winter succeeds; / But one pale season rules the house of death.
Cold falls the imprisoned daylight; fell disease / By each lean pallet squats, and pain and sleep / Toss gaping on the pillows.