When the dawn struck on Memnon, as they say, The child of morning answered; so the stroke Of this warm sunshine on the room, awoke To song those lesser children of the day, The window-flies; I watched each mazy track, I saw them deftly treading the smooth pane, Or, haply, flitting with prone wings and back, To the near cornice, to return again. Ah! little ones! your joy is brief and vain: Full soon the brush shall sweep your tiny forms, Supine and dumb, into the wind and rain; 'Tis sad to be swept out into the storms. 'Twere sadder to revive, and cast about For foothold, in that roaring world without! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 10. STRESA by SARA TEASDALE EPIGRAM: A LAME BEGGAR by JOHN DONNE A STRIP OF BLUE by LUCY LARCOM FROM HIDDEN SOURCE by JEAN ANDERSON A PASTORAL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A SONG OF THE HILLS by MAY LACKEY CAMPBELL |