Gray Days
A soaking sedge, A faded field, a leafless hill and hedge, Low clouds and rain, And loneliness and languor worse than pain. Mottled with moss, Each gravestone holds to heaven a patient Cross. Shrill streaks of light Two sycamores' clean-limbed, funereal white, And low between, The sombre cedar and the ivy green. Upon the stone Of each in turn who called this land his own The gray rain beats And wraps the wet world in its flying sheets, And at my eaves A slow wind, ghostlike, comes and grieves and grieves.
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"A soaking sedge,..."
"Gray Days" is a quintessential example of John Charles McNeill's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...