NINE drops of water bead the jessamine, And nine-and-ninety smear the stones and tiles: - 'Twas not so in that August - full-rayed, fine - When we lived out-of-doors, sang songs, strode miles. Or was there then no noted radiancy Of summer? Were dun clouds, a dribbling bough, Gilt over by the light I bore in me, And was the waste world just the same as now? It can have been so: yea, that threatenings Of coming down-drip on the sunless gray, By the then golden chances seen in things Were wrought more bright than brightest skies to-day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TREES by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SACRIFICE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON NINETY-NINE IN THE SHADE by ROSSITER JOHNSON COWBOY VERSUS BRONCHO by JAMES BARTON ADAMS |