SAD-EYED AND SOFT AND GREY THOU ART, O MORN! Across the long grass of the marshy plain Thy west wind whispers of the coming rain, Thy lark forgets that May is grown forlorn Above the lush blades of the springing corn, Thy thrush within the high elms strives in vain To store up tales of spring for summer's pain -- Vain day, why wert thou from the dark night born? O many-voiced strange morn, why must thou break With vain desire the softness of my dream Where she and I alone on earth did seem? How hadst thou heart from me that land to take Wherein she wandered softly for my sake And I and she no harm of love might deem? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 101. THE ONE HOPE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE LAMPLIGHTER by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE EVENING CLOUD by JOHN WILSON (1785-1854) SONNET WRITTEN IN THE FALL OF 1914: 2 by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY TO A HUMMING BIRD by GLADYS ARNE THE FUNERAL OF A VILLAGE GIRL by JULIEN AUGUSTE PELAGE BRIZEUX A VERSE ON HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY by ROBERT BURNS |