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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
44
XLVIII
The dead gold of the marybud,
The dusky, tarnished orange-red
Of zinnias, flush the flower-bed,
Like frosty autumn gleams that scud
Tempestuous dusks and stormy dawns
Above the wind-dishevelled lawns.
The dusky, tarnished orange-red
Of zinnias, flush the flower-bed,
Like frosty autumn gleams that scud
Tempestuous dusks and stormy dawns
Above the wind-dishevelled lawns.
With tired eyes and heart grown grave,
And thoughts more weary than the night,
I watch the dwindling of the light,
And hear the rising night-winds rave,
As one might hear, when half asleep,
Another self make moan and weep.
And thoughts more weary than the night,
I watch the dwindling of the light,
And hear the rising night-winds rave,
As one might hear, when half asleep,
Another self make moan and weep.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |