The dawn of the day was dreary, And the lowering clouds o'erhead Wept in a silent sorrow Where the sweet sunshine lay dead; And a wind came out of the eastward Like an endless sigh of pain, And the leaves fell down in the pathway And writhed in the falling rain. I had tried in a brave endeavor To chord my harp with the sun, But the strings would slacken ever, And the task was a weary one: And so, like a child impatient And sick of a discontent, I bowed in a shower of tear-drops And mourned with the instrument. And lo! as I bowed, the splendor Of the sun bent over me, With a touch as warm and tender As a father's hand might be: And, even as I felt its presence, My clouded soul grew bright, And the tears, like the rain of morning, Melted in mists of light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY AIN COUNTRIE by MARY LEE DEMAREST BEDTIME by FRANCIS ROBERT ST. CLAIR ERSKINE AN HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND by ANDREW MARVELL ODE: INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE DOUBLE STANDARD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE LONE BUTTE by EVA K. ANGLESBURG EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 5. OF TEMPERANCE by WILLIAM BASSE |