The sky is low, the clouds are mean, A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day How some one treated him; Nature, like us, is sometimes caught Without her diadem. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET TO MRS. REYNOLD'S CAT by JOHN KEATS THE DEBT by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE OLD LINE FENCE by AMERICUS WELLINGTON BELLAW THE FALCON by GRACE UPDEGRAFF BERGEN PURIM, 1900 by ALICE D. BRAHAM THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FOURTH ECLOGUE. TO MR. THOMAS MANWOOD by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |