Amy Lowell - March Evening lyrics

Blue through the window burns the twilight; Heavy, through trees, blows the warm south wind. Glistening, against the chill, gray sky light, Wet, black branches are barred and entwined. Sodden and spongy, the scarce-green gra** plot Dents into pools where a foot has been. Puddles lie spilt in the road a ma**, not Of water, but steel, with its cold, hard sheen. Faint fades the fire on the hearth, its embers Scattering wide at a stronger gust. Above, the old weatherco*k groans, but remembers Creaking, to turn, in its centuried rust. Dying, forlorn, in dreary sorrow, Wrapping the mists round her withering form, Day sinks down; and in darkness to-morrow Travails to birth in the womb of the storm.