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Poem by Jones Very


The Clouded Morning


The morning comes, and thickening clouds prevail,
    Hanging like curtains all the horizon round,
Or overhead in heavy stillness sail;
    So still is day, it seems like night profound;
Scarce by the citys din the air is stirred,
    And dull and deadened comes its every sound;
The cocks shrill, piercing voice subdued is heard,
    By the thick folds of muffling vapors drowned.
Dissolved in mists the hills and trees appear,
    Their outlines lost and blended with the sky;
And well-known objects, that to all are near,
    No longer seem familiar to the eye,
But with fantastic forms they mock the sight,
As when we grope amid the gloom of night.



Jones Very


Jones Very's other poems:
  1. The Grave Yard
  2. He Gave Me No Meat
  3. To the Hummingbird
  4. Nature
  5. The Light from Within


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