A GRAY day and quiet, With slow clouds of gray, And in dull air a cloud that falls, falls All day. The naked and stiff branches Of oak, elm, thorn, In the cold light are like men aged and Forlorn. Only a gray sky, Grass, trees, grass again, And all the air a cloud that drips, drips, All day. Lovely the lonely Bare trees and green grass— Lovelier now the last hours of slow winter Slowly pass. |