(1872-1906 / Ohio / United States)

A Misty Day

Heart of my heart, the day is chill,
The mist hangs low o'er the wooded hill,
The soft white mist and the heavy cloud
The sun and the face of heaven shroud.
The birds are thick in the dripping trees,
That drop their pearls to the beggar breeze;
No songs are rife where songs are wont,
Each singer crouches in his haunt.

Heart of my heart, the day is chill,
Whene'er thy loving voice is still,
The cloud and mist hide the sky from me,
Whene'er thy face I cannot see.
My thoughts fly back from the chill without,
My mind in the storm drops doubt on doubt,
No songs arise. Without thee, love,
My soul sinks down like a frightened dove.

User Rating: 3,1 / 5 ( 26 votes ) 8

Comments (8)

A rhythmic poetry of love that sings, sings and sings in the heart.- - - - -
I like the minimalism of this writing. Short sentences that go straight to the essential without diluting into lengthy sentences. And the vocabulary is accessible to any person without any higher learning; that's the universality in poetry. But especially the rhythm turns me on. I can imagine these words with a jazz drums accompaniment. It swings, it really swings!
Wooded hill..... thanks for posting....
Outpouring of love is so thick here. No songs arise. Without thee, love, My soul sinks down like a frightened dove. is very beautiful Congrats
Heart of my heart, the day is chill, Whene'er thy loving voice is still, The cloud and mist hide the sky from me...... little bit optimistic yet the clear punctuation of the voice out of a heart of a poet tuned nicely. Thanks.,
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