Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, And howlest, issuing out of night, With blasts that blow the poplar white, And lash with storm the streaming pane? Day, when my crown'd estate begun To pine in that reverse of doom, Which sicken'd every living bloom, And blurr'd the splendor of the sun; Who usherest in the dolorous hour With thy quick tears that make the rose Pull sideways, and the daisy close Her crimson fringes to the shower; Who mightst have heaved a windless flame Up the deep East, or, whispering, play'd A chequer-work of beam and shade Along the hills, yet look'd the same, As wan, as chill, as wild as now; Day, mark'd as with some hideous crime, When the dark hand struck down thro' time, And cancell'd nature's best: but thou, Lift as thou mayst thy burthen'd brows Thro' clouds that drench the morning star, And whirl the ungarner'd sheaf afar, And sow the sky with flying boughs, And up thy vault with roaring sound Climb thy thick noon, disastrous day; Touch thy dull goal of joyless gray, And hide thy shame beneath the ground. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THEY PRAISE THE SUN by JOHN CROWE RANSOM THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT PROTHALAMION by EDMUND SPENSER POPULARITY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THIRTEEN AT TABLE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER WILLIAM COWPER by WILLIAM BLAKE THE RIVER FIGHT; APRIL 18, 1862 by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. THUS I YEARNED FOR LOVE by EDWARD CARPENTER |