Classic Poem

The great red sun glows like a thing accurst;
Along the east the sailless ocean lies,
Wide sweeping, with low waves that sink and rise
In utter weariness. The bare hills thirst,
For the fierce floods that once were wont to burst,
With lightning's flash, in answer to their cries,
Their thunder tones far echoing in the skies.
The plains that shone in morning's light immersed,
Rich with the glory ripened harvests gave,
And silver fretted by a thousand streams,
Now brown and lifeless merge in lurid space:
Some withered reeds in ghostly breezes wave,
And skeletons of leaves float like lost dreams,
Above the dead world's sad and silent face.