A Gray Day.
Within the woodland’s sombre depth1
A faint, sweet note awakes and dies ;2
And sadly through the swaying boughs3
The west wind on its mission sighs ;4
While cloudy billows northward roll5
Across the low, gray skies.6
The sounds that made the woodland gay7
Awhile—as if with grief—are mute ;8
The linnet has no heart to sing,9
And silent is the blackbird’s flute ;10
Nought stirs save that faint note of song,11
And sad Æolian lute.12