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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
443
A WET DAY
Dark, drear, and drizzly, with vapor grizzly,
The day goes dully unto its close;
Its wet robe smutches each thing it touches,
Its fingers sully and wreck the rose.
The day goes dully unto its close;
Its wet robe smutches each thing it touches,
Its fingers sully and wreck the rose.
Around the railing and garden-paling
The dripping lily hangs low its head:
A brood-mare whinnies; and hens and guineas
Droop, damp and chilly, beneath the shed.
The dripping lily hangs low its head:
A brood-mare whinnies; and hens and guineas
Droop, damp and chilly, beneath the shed.
In splashing mire about the byre
The cattle huddle, the farm-hand plods;
While to some neighbor's a wagon labors
Through pool and puddle and clay that clods.
The cattle huddle, the farm-hand plods;
While to some neighbor's a wagon labors
Through pool and puddle and clay that clods.
444
The day, unsplendid, at last is ended,
Is dead and buried, and night has come;—
Night, blind and footless, and foul and fruitless,
With weeping wearied, and sorrow-dumb.
Is dead and buried, and night has come;—
Night, blind and footless, and foul and fruitless,
With weeping wearied, and sorrow-dumb.
Ah, God! for thunder! for winds to sunder
The clouds and o'er us smite rushing bars!
And through wild masses of storm, that passes,
Roll calm the chorus of moon and stars.
The clouds and o'er us smite rushing bars!
And through wild masses of storm, that passes,
Roll calm the chorus of moon and stars.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |