My window looks upon a world grown gray, Where grim trees seem like troubled men in prayer; Smoke pours from chimneys, telling that the day Is drear -- that piercing winds have chilled the air. No songbird trills -- only the sparrows wait Hunched in their feathers, for the proffered crumb; It is as if some stern, relentless fate Had gripped the earth and left it tired and numb. Even the far-off whistling of a train Sounds weary, dwindles to a ghostly wail; Does all the world reflect war's gloomy strain, Wondering what foes, what evils may assail? But spring will come -- of this there is no doubt, With blossoming bough. . . if mankind would implore The powers that be to put war's curse to rout, Could peace not bloom, too, in the world once more? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FISH by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PLORATA VERIS LACHRYMIS by WILLIAM BARNES RECESS by MILDRED TELFORD BARNWELL ANOTHER JOURNEY FROM BETHUNE TO CUINCHY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN LA SAISIAZ: PROLOGUE by ROBERT BROWNING TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. A VILLAGE CHURCH by EDWARD CARPENTER |