Weather poems/ page 10 of 80 /
HERE were the end, had anything an end:
Thus, lit and launched, up and up roared and soared
IN the hush of April weather,
With the bees in budding heather,
And the white clouds floating, floating, and the sunshine falling broad;
While my children down the hill
Run and leap, and I sit still,--
Through the silence, through the silence art Thou calling, O my God?
LORD, what I once had done with youthful might,
With a look and a laugh where the stream was flowing,
September led me along the land;
Where the golden-rod and lobelia, glowing,
Seemed burning torches within her hand.
And faint as the thistle's or milk-weed's feather
I glimpsed her form through the sparkling weather.
The earth ore-covered with a sheet of snow,
Refuses food to fowl, to bird, and beast;
The chilling cold lets every thing to grow,
And surfeits cattle with a starving feast.
Curs'd be that love and mought continue short,
Which kills all creatures, and doth spoil our sport.