Last Hours

A GRAY day and quiet,

With slow clouds of gray,

And in dull air a cloud that falls, falls

All day.

The naked and stiff branches

Of oak, elm, thorn,

In the cold light are like men aged and

Forlorn.

Only a gray sky,

Grass, trees, grass again,

And all the air a cloud that drips, drips,

All day.

Lovely the lonely

Bare trees and green grass —

Lovelier now the last hours of slow winter

Slowly pass.

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