Poetry, April 10

[jade_sabre]

In honor of the awesomeness that was David Copperfield, I present to you a poem by Charles Dickens (turns out he wrote poetry!  Who knew?  Also, who'd've guessed how depressing it is?)  Today is a damp and drizzly April day, kinda like the wet November of my soul except it's April, not November, which bespeaks more optimism than Moby Dick, or, for that matter, this damp and drizzly poem:

Lucy's Song

How beautiful at eventide

To see the twilight shadows pale,

Steal o'er the landscape, far and wide,

O'er stream and meadow, mound and dale!

 

How soft is Nature's calm repose

When ev'ning skies their cool dews weep:

The gentlest wind more gently blows,

As if to soothe her in her sleep!

 

The gay morn breaks,

Mists roll away,

All Nature awakes

To glorious day.

In my breast alone

Dark shadows remain;

The peace it has known

It can never regain.