When Dawn strides out to wake a dewy farm Across green fields and yellow hills of hay The little twittering birds laugh in his way And poise triumphant on his shining arm. He bears a sword of flame but not to harm The wakened life that feels his quickening sway And barnyard voiceske a wounded thing That limps to cover from the angry chase, He steals down streets where sickly arc-lights sing, And wanly mock his young and shameful face; And tiny gongs with cruel fervor ring In many a high and dreary sleeping place. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW; IN MEMORIAM by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON RAIN IN SUMMER by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE EAGLE AND THE MOLE by ELINOR WYLIE DECEMBER 31ST by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE YOU MAY REMEMBER by LULU PIPER AIKEN MISS MILLY O'NAIRE by WILLARD GROSVENOR BLEYER SNOW OR SNOWDROPS? by MATHILDE BLIND |