Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, And howlest, issuing out of night, With blasts that blow the poplar white, And lash with storm the streaming pane? Day, when my crown'd estate begun To pine in that reverse of doom, Which sicken'd every living bloom, And blurr'd the splendor of the sun; Who usherest in the dolorous hour With thy quick tears that make the rose Pull sideways, and the daisy close Her crimson fringes to the shower; Who mightst have heaved a windless flame Up the deep East, or, whispering, play'd A chequer-work of beam and shade Along the hills, yet look'd the same, As wan, as chill, as wild as now; Day, mark'd as with some hideous crime, When the dark hand struck down thro' time, And cancell'd nature's best: but thou, Lift as thou mayst thy burthen'd brows Thro' clouds that drench the morning star, And whirl the ungarner'd sheaf afar, And sow the sky with flying boughs, And up thy vault with roaring sound Climb thy thick noon, disastrous day; Touch thy dull goal of joyless gray, And hide thy shame beneath the ground. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE AGED LOVER RENOUNCETH LOVE by THOMAS VAUX PASTEL by MARSDON GILFORD ALBRITTON THE NATIVE LAND by FRANCISCO DE ALDANA TO A DEAD JOURNALIST by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT SEA LAVENDER by LOUISE MOREY BOWMAN THE SPHINX by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL IN THE FOG by DAISY DEAN BUTLER TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. ON AN ATLANTIC STEAMSHIP by EDWARD CARPENTER |