The grim dawn lightens thin bleak clouds; In the hill-clefts beyond the flooded meadows Lies death-pale, death-still mist. We trudge along wearily, Heavy with lack of sleep, Spiritless, yet with pretence of gaiety. The sun brings crimson to the colourless sky; Light shines from brass and steel- We trudge on wearily- O God, end this bleak anguish Soon, soon, with vivid crimson death, End it in mist-pale sleep! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEWEY AT MANILA [MAY 1, 1898] by ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN by RUDYARD KIPLING THE EVE OF BUNKER HILL [JUNE 16, 1775] by CLINTON SCOLLARD IDYLLS OF THE KING: DEDICATION by ALFRED TENNYSON SUNSET IN THE DEVIL'S GLEN: COUNTY WICKLOW by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG |