LOOK, William, how the morning mists Have covered all the scene, Nor house nor hill canst thou behold, Grey wood, or meadow green. The distant spire across the vale These floating vapours shroud, Scarce are the neighbouring poplars seen, Pale shadowed in the cloud. But seest thou, William, where the mists Sweep o'er the southern sky, The dim effulgence of the sun That lights them as they fly? Soon shall that glorious orb of day In all his strength arise, And roll along his azure way, Through clear and cloudless skies. Then shall we see across the vale The village spire so white, And the grey wood and meadow green Shall live again in light. So, William, from the moral world The clouds shall pass away; The light that struggles through them now Shall beam eternal day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO BE LIKED BY YOU WOULD BE A CALAMITY by MARIANNE MOORE THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT LAMENT FOR CULLODEN by ROBERT BURNS SESTINA OF THE TRAMP ROYAL by RUDYARD KIPLING THE RIVER-MERCHANT'S WIFE: A LETTER by LI PO SONNET PREFIXED TO 'THE COMMONWEALTH & GOVERNMENT OF VENICE' by EDMUND SPENSER |