A DAY remorseful, heavy, dun, Had overcast the skies, As though the winter-vanquished sun Would never more arise. Brown trees drew out of blurred wet air A mockery of pearls, And tiny brooks seemed everywhere To speak in slakes and swirls. There was no hope within their home, There was not even bread: Within was gloom, without was gloom, And surely God seemed dead. Among the clenching mists they went, Along the lonely road, With nothing but their thoughts that meant More than a traveller's load -- By black ponds dull with dying sags, By heavy-hearted moors, By sheep-lanes trod to clogging quags, By uncouth farmyard stores. Ah, Christmas day all penniless, When these were brought so low! Yet now they feel from that dead stress A sullen pleasure grow; Most like the yew all stern and dark That grows in churchyard ground: The sexton has some pride to mark Its shadow and its sound. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE BUILDING OF SPRINGFIELD by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY SHERIDAN AT CEDAR CREEK by HERMAN MELVILLE SONNETS TO LAURA IN LIFE: 131 by PETRARCH ON FEATHER BEDS by JOHN ARMSTRONG SONG: 6 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD LILIES: 9. BENEATH LOFTIER STARS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE STATION MAN, ON LOOK-OUT by ARCHIE BINNS |