O HOW comely it was and how reviving, When with clay and with death no longer striving Down firm roads we came to houses With women chattering and green grass thriving. Now though rains in a cataract descended, We could glow, with our tribulation ended -- Count not days, the present only Was thought of, how could it ever be expended? Clad so cleanly, this remnant of poor wretches Picked up life like the hens in orchard ditches, Gazed on the mill-sails, heard the church-bell, Found an honest glass all manner of riches. How they crowded the barn with lusty laughter, Hailed the pierrots and shook each shadowy rafter, Even could ridicule their own sufferings, Sang as though nothing but joy came after! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE WAY (PHILADELPHIA, 1794) by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON BUCOLIC COMEDY: THE DOLL by EDITH SITWELL THE PRISONER OF CHILLON: INTRODUCTORY SONNET by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE WILLIAM P. FRYE [FEBRUARY 28, 1915] by JEANNE ROBERT FOSTER OF THE WARS IN IRELAND by JOHN HARRINGTON |