The taper wastes within yon window-pane, And the blind flutters, where his fevered hand Has raised the sash, to cool his burning brain; But he has passed away from house and land. Cheerly and proudly through the gusty dark The red cock crows! the new-dropt lambkin tries His earliest voice in the home-field, while stark And stiff, on his own bed, the drunkard lies; O'erdone by that steep ride, his weary horse Poises his battered feet and cannot feed; From the near moorland hill, the brawling force Calls loudly - but the dead man takes no heed; While Keeper howls his notice of alarm, And thrills with awe the dusky mountain farm. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BOLDNESS IN LOVE by THOMAS CAREW AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 4. THE MARKET-GIRL by THOMAS HARDY FULFILLMENT by ROBERT MALISE BOWYER NICHOLS THE MEN BEHIND THE GUNS by JOHN JEROME ROONEY FOR 'OUR LADY OF THE ROCKS' (BY LEONARDO DA VINCI) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |