The grey-green stretch of sandy grass, Indefinitely desolate; A sea of lead, a sky of slate; Already autumn in the air, alas! One stark monotony of stone, The long hotel, acutely white, Against the after-sunset light Withers grey-green, and takes the grass's tone. Listless and endless it outlies, And means, to you and me, no more Than any pebble on the shore, Or this indifferent moment as it dies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOCKLESS DOOR by ROBERT FROST SONNET AGAINST THE DISPRAYSERS OF POETRIE by RICHARD BARNFIELD HEAUTONTIMOROUMENOS by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE FASHION; A DIALOGUE by JAMES HAY BEATTIE |