|The gray world, the gray world,
That clouds the face of Spring,
That clothes in nebulous white shrouds
Each near, familiar thing__
Even the river's voice sounds strange,
No warm light finds the gray world,
Of filmy mists and spray;
The clinging beauty of the fog
Has shut the hills away;
God's living sun has died and left
This lovely wraith of Day.
The gray world, the ghost world,__
The winds lie as they list,
While Spring comes shyly veiled in gray
To keep her April tryst.
0 you who died before this day,
What loveliness you missed!
__Ester M. (Clark) Hill.
The Call of Kansas and Other Poems
Esther M. (Clark) Hill
(Cedar Rapids: Torch Press. __)