November Sunshine and the House-Flies
When the dawn struck on Memnon, as they say,
The child of morning answer'd; so the stroke
Of this warm sunshine on the room, awoke
To song those lesser children of the day,
The window-flies; I watch'd each mazy track,
I saw them deftly treading the smooth pane,
Or, haply, flitting with prone wings and back,
To the near cornice, to return again.
Ah! little ones! your joy is brief and vain:
Full soon the brush shall sweep your tiny forms,
Supine and dumb, into the wind and rain;
'Tis sad to be swept out into the storms.
'Twere sadder to revive, and cast about
For foothold, in that roaring world without!
The child of morning answer'd; so the stroke
Of this warm sunshine on the room, awoke
To song those lesser children of the day,
The window-flies; I watch'd each mazy track,
I saw them deftly treading the smooth pane,
Or, haply, flitting with prone wings and back,
To the near cornice, to return again.
Ah! little ones! your joy is brief and vain:
Full soon the brush shall sweep your tiny forms,
Supine and dumb, into the wind and rain;
'Tis sad to be swept out into the storms.
'Twere sadder to revive, and cast about
For foothold, in that roaring world without!
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Gave two stars, almost gave
Gave two stars, almost gave it a three. The subject matter (flies) was not at all interesting to me as a poem, but it was pretty well done lyrically. Still, I couldn't really enjoy the poem given what it was about.
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