In the valley the birches are bored. On the meadows, fog billows and weighs. Sodden, with horse-dung floored, The highroad blackens in haze. Rich on the steppe's sleepy air, The odor of freshly-baked bread. Bent to their packs, slowly fare Two beggars to look for a bed. Round puddles gleam in the streets. The fumes of the ovens stun. Thawing, the bleak earthen seats Smolder and steam in the sun. By the corn-bin, dragging his chain, The sheep-dog yawns on the sill. Walls smoke with the charcoal stain. The steppe is foggy and still. The carefree cock will perform Day-long for the sap-stirred earth. In the fields it is drowsy and warm. In the heart - indolent mirth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HELEN (1) by EDGAR ALLAN POE RECONCILIATION by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL THE BATTLE AUTUMN OF 1862 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER SUNRISE AND SUNSET: 1. SUNRISE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE INDIAN SUMMER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE OUTLAW by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. |