THE day begins to droop, -- Its course is done: But nothing tells the place Of the setting sun. The hazy darkness deepens, And up the lane You may hear, but cannot see, The homing wain. An engine pants and hums In the farm hard by: Its lowering smoke is lost In the lowering sky. The soaking branches drip, And all night through The dropping will not cease In the avenue. A tall man there in the house Must keep his chair: He knows he will never again Breathe the spring air: His heart is worn with work; He is giddy and sick If he rise to go as far As the nearest rick: He thinks of his morn of life, His hale, strong years; And braves as he may the night Of darkness and tears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY by ROBERT AYTON THE DEVIL'S WALK [ON EARTH] by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE EPITAPH ON A JACOBITE by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY LINES TO HANNAH AND PHOEBE by BERNARD BARTON SHE WOULD NOT KNOW ME by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY TO LADY CHARLOTTYE GORDON; DRESSED IN A TARTAN SCOTCH BONNET by JAMES BEATTIE |