BENEATH the sombre cypresses The faded petals fall, Against the dawn's grey wall Are etched the motionless trees: And the last perfume of the rose is borne Out to die at the gates of the morn. There are only four things Which my soul can find To match its moody mind: The lake of the mountain springs, The sad, caressing wind, The star aloft in the air, And the tree in the desert bare. To each dim blackened roof A leaden fogbank clings: With acrid smoke it stings, he sunlight stays aloof. he traffic grumbles by, Men live and suffer -- why? There are only four things Which my soul can find To match its moody mind: The ancient house which rots, Suburban rubbish lots, The abandoned factory bare, And the slum of grim despair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ESTRANGEMENT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO THE SHADE OF PO CHU-I by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE COURTSHIP OF THE YONGHY-BONGHY-BO by EDWARD LEAR FOR A DEAD LADY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE TIMES by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE STRING AROUND MY FINGER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |