Endless downpour; misty wood; Fir trees swaying: Oh, dear Lord! - as if the wood were drunk, Rain-sodden. At the window of the dark lodge A child sits drumming with a spoon. Mother sleeping soundly on the stove; A calf lowing in the damp passage. Gloomy lodge; buzzing of flies... Why does the wood ring with birdsong, Sprout with mushrooms, blossom with flowers And vegetation bright as grass snakes? Why does a round-eyed child, Weary of the world and of his lodge, Drum his spoon on the windowsill To the even patter of the rain? Calf lowing; dumb calf. And the mournful fir trees bow their green branches: Oh, dear Lord! Oh, dear Lord! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO-MORROW IS MY BIRTHDAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LIVING STARS by GEORGE SANTAYANA MIDSUMMER NIGHT by SARA TEASDALE OUR COUNTRY'S CALL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE ARAB by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 4. THE MARKET-GIRL by THOMAS HARDY ON VISITING THE TOMB OF BURNS by JOHN KEATS |