THE EARTH, THE FIELDS, LIE STRETCHED IN SLEEP
Dead, all dead!
The earth, the fields, lie stretched in sleep
Like weary toilers overdone.
The valleys gape like toothless age,
Besnaggled by dead trees.
The hills, like boney jaws whose flesh hath dropped,
Stand grinning at the deathy day.
The lily, too, hath cast her shroud
And clothed her as a brown-robed nun.
The moon doth, at the even's creep,
Reach forth her whitened hands and sooth
The wrinkled brow of earth to sleep.
