THE cloud looked in at the window, And said to the day, "Be dark!" And the roguish rain tapped hard on the pane, To stifle the song of the lark. The wind sprang up in the tree tops And shrieked with a voice of death, But the rough-voiced breeze, that shook the trees, Was touched with a violet's breath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 20 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON VANQUISHED; ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL GRANT by FRANCIS FISHER BROWNE SONG: 4 by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS IN ROMNEY MARSH by JOHN DAVIDSON THE MASTER-PLAYER by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ODE ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB by THOMAS GRAY ON LIBERTY AND SLAVERY by GEORGE MOSES HORTON |