In the black hour the friendly cock did cry, And from the iron city where I lay, I heard his petty trumpet in the sky, His single word that darkness should be day. And I who would have stopped the tick of the clock, The sun as well, because of what I knew, Took courage from the courage of the cock, Who only did what he was used to do. And listening to his boast by sunlight taught, His loud promiscuous comfort I knew how To echo him—to draw from practiced thought A frozen sun to gild the frozen bough. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN WILL LOVE COME? by PAKENHAM THOMAS BEATTY THE OLD STOIC by EMILY JANE BRONTE LOVE'S APOTHEOSIS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR CHRISTMAS TREES; A CHRISTMAS CIRCULAR LETTER by ROBERT FROST ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT by ALEXANDER POPE INVITATION by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |