The grim dawn lightens thin bleak clouds; In the hill-clefts beyond the flooded meadows Lies death-pale, death-still mist. We trudge along wearily, Heavy with lack of sleep, Spiritless, yet with pretence of gaiety. The sun brings crimson to the colourless sky; Light shines from brass and steel- We trudge on wearily- O God, end this bleak anguish Soon, soon, with vivid crimson death, End it in mist-pale sleep! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE KING'S THRESHOLD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SEVEN TIMES FOUR [ - MATERNITY] by JEAN INGELOW WILLIE WINKIE by WILLIAM MILLER THE REQUEST. TO LOVE by PHILIP AYRES MOUNT AGASSIZ by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN: 4. INTRODUCTION by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |