Mendicants
Bleak, in dark rags of clouds, the day begins, That passed so splendidly but yesterday, Wrapped in magnificence of gold and gray, And poppy and rose. Now, burdened as with sins, Their wildness clad in fogs, like coats of skins, Tattered and streaked with rain; gaunt, clogged with clay, The mendicant Hours take their somber way Westward o'er Earth, to which no sunray wins. Their splashing sandals ooze; their foosteps drip, Puddle and brim with moisture; their sad hair Is tagged with haggard drops, that with their eyes' Slow streams are blent; each sullen fingertip Rivers; while round them, in the grief-drenched air Wearies the wind of their perpetual sighs.
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"Bleak, in dark rags of clouds, the day begins,..."
Madison Julius Cawein's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Mendicants"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...