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In the shadows

XX

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Die down, O dismal day! and let me live. And come, blue deeps! magnificently strewn With coloured clouds—large, light and fugitive— By upper winds through pompous motions blown. Now it is death in life—a vapour dense Creeps round my window till I cannot see The far snow-shining mountains, and the glens Shagging the mountain-tops. O God! make free This barren, shackled earth, so deadly cold— Breathe gently forth Thy spring, till winter flies In rude amazement, fearful and yet bold, While she performs her custom’d charities. I weigh the loaded hours till life is bare— O God! for one clear day, a snowdrop, and sweet air!

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