Darkling and groping, thin of blood, we wage Mechanic war: one vast crepuscular day Broods o'er the world; our very grief is grey; We wear no weeds; we loathe to tread the stage. Birds of all feathers in that motley cage Once chirp'd and sang their vernal longings gay; More life than is in life was in the play; More sweetness than in wisdom in the sage. When will return to earth that jocund year With marigolds and daisies golden-eye'd, Passionate lovers, and kings crown'd in pride? When will that teeming summer reappear And hide together in one flowery bier The old that erred and the young that died? |