GROANED the mill-wheel below, @3Labour, labour is sore, Sore evermore.@1 White foam smiled answer and spread @3Ever@1—@3never@1—@3for ever@1—and fled. The alder's thin leaves, olive and sere, Rustled, @3Autumn is near, With cold fingering winds and hoar-sprinkled locks Strewing my leaves on foam-washed rocks.@1 The white clouds made answer and shed Shadows that hare-like fled, And the lapwing flying Another shadow shook down, crying @3Never, never, O never.@1 Where was your voice in these Voices of mock and unease? Cried you that Autumn was near, Already her cold shadow here? Never the lapwing's your note, Desolate, sad throat! Was it yours, the fleet shadow's mock, And foam on leaf-strewn rock? Yours was in none of these Voices of mock and unease. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A TUFT OF GRASS by EMMA LAZARUS THE WANTS OF MAN by JOHN QUINCY ADAMS GLOTTO'S TOWER by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: HIAWATHA AND MUDJEKEEWIS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SONNET: 61 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION: BOOK 3 by MARK AKENSIDE |