It is eleven; The rain is gone That came ere seven. The air is dank; The grass fat-green With rain it drank. A bird hops down To save a worm He fears will drown. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON READING -- . by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE FARMER'S BRIDE by CHARLOTTE MEW THE PASSING BELL by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE MODERN VERSION (TO A LUCY STONER) by BERTON BRALEY TO A LADY WEEPING by WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT |