Poetry of Kansas

Gray Weather

I love the fall's gray weather, when the white mist clings to the
        lea,
And the sullen clouds sweep dark and Iow, like waves on a
        wintry sea,
And from out of the woods the gaunt gray winds come whis-
        pering Iow to me:
 
We come from the frozen northern hills, we have swept them
        clean and fair;
We have drenched the plains with the biting rains and planted
        a promise there
Of beauty and plenty the spring shall know, and only the spring
        shall bear.

 
Autumnal, dull gray weather, when the days grow short and
        chill,
And the voice of a million summer things is hushed by the frost
        and still;
And the hoarse, gray winds are whispering close, over beyond
        the hill:
 
We have left the desolate, ice-clad north, and sweeping from
        town to town,
We have gutted the eaves of the crisp, dry leaves and banked
        them in beds of brown
Over the life in the sleeping earth, till the spring comes smiling
        down.

 
Gray weather, 0 gray weather! The fine, sharp mist and the
        rain!
When the hoar frost whitens the pleasant fields laid bare of
        their garnered grain,
And the gaunt, gray winds cry, thundering in from over the
        stark, brown plain:
 
Ye have bargained with us in vain. in vain! Bar window and
        door instead!
Give thanks for your sheltering walls tonight and the stout roof
        overhead!
After us cometh the quickening spring ___ with that be ye com-
        forted.

__Ester M. (Clark) Hill.

 

The Call of Kansas and Other Poems
Esther M. (Clark) Hill
(Cedar Rapids: Torch Press. __)
Pages 55-56

 
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November 5, 2002 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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