FROM morn till noon upon the window-pane The tempest tapped with rainy finger-nails, And all the afternoon the blustering gales Beat at the door with furious feet of rain. The rose, near which the lily bloom lay slain, Like some red wound dripped by the garden rails, On which the sullen slug left slimy trails -- Meseemed the sun would never shine again. Then in the drench, long, loud and full of cheer, -- A skyey herald tabarded in blue, -- A bluebird bugled and at once a bow Was bent in heaven, and I seemed to hear God's sapphire spaces crystallising through The strata'd clouds in azure tremolo. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE SAY by JAMES GALVIN ON DONNE'S POETRY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE STORMING OF STONY POINT [JULY 16, 1779] by ARTHUR GUITERMAN THE DEATH OF HUSS by ALFRED AUSTIN PRAYER FOR AMERICA by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 25. ELEGIAC VERSE: THE EIGHTH EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION |