Classic Poem

The rain is beating sullenly to-night;
The wild red flowers like flames are drenched away;
Down through the gaps of the black woods the light
Strikes cold and dismal. Only yesterday
It seems since Spring along the neighboring moor
Washed up the daisies, and the barks of trees
Cracked with green buds, while at my cabin door
The brier hung heavy with the yellow bees.

Now all is blank: the wind climbs drearily
Against the hills, the pastures close are browsed;
Snakes slip in gaps of earth, gray crickets cry,
Ants cease from running, and the bat is housed.
No bright star, throbbing through the dark, one beam
Of comfort sends me from its home above—
I only see the splendor of a dream,
Slowly and sadly fading out of love.

I only see the wild boughs as they blow
Against my window, see the purple slant
Of twilight shadows into darkness go;
And yet again the whistling March will plant
The April meadows, wheat fields will grow bright
In their own time, the king-cups in their day
Come through the grass; and somewhere there is Light
If my weak thoughts could strike upon the way.