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summer morn |
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Answer» Summer Morn in New Hampshire Claude McKay,1889-1948 All yesterday it poured, and all night long I could not sleep; the rain unceasing beatUpon the shingled roof like a weird song, Upon the grass like running children’s feet.And down the mountains by the dark cloud kissed, Like a strange shape in filmy veiling dressed,Slid slowly, silently, the wraith-like mist, And nestled soft against the earth’s wet breast.But lo, there was a miracle at dawn! The still air stirred at touch of the faint breeze,The sun a sheet of gold bequeathed the lawn, The songsters twittered in the rustling trees.And all things were transfigured in the day, But me whom radiant beauty could not move;For you, more wonderful, were far away, And I was blind with hunger for your love. |
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