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(27 February 1807 – 24 March 1882 / Portland, Maine)

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Afternoon in February

The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.

Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red.

The snow recommences;
The buried fences
Mark no longer
The road o'er the plain;

While through the meadows,
Like fearful shadows,
Slowly passes
A funeral train.

The bell is pealing,
And every feeling
Within me responds
To the dismal knell;

Shadows are trailing,
My heart is bewailing
And tolling within
Like a funeral bell.

Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002


Read poems about / on: funeral, red, river, snow, sun, night, heart

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  • * Sunprincess * (3/14/2014 10:01:00 PM)

    Through clouds like ashes
    The red sun flashes
    On village windows
    That glimmer red

    ............like this poem very much....excellent write..

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