Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev (5 December 1803 – 27 July 1873 / Ovstug)
Here, At A Meagre Earth
Here, at a meagre earth, despondent
And listless stare the dull grey skies,
And, as if plunged in leaden slumber,
A eary nature moveless lies.
Alone the few pale birches, gleaming
Mid greyish moss and stubby brush,
Like visions born of fevered dreaming
Disrupt the lifeless, eerie hush.
Poet Other Poems
- A Vision
- All Day She Quiet Lay
- As In The Globe Embraced By Ocean
- Autumn Evening
- Don't say he loves me as before...
- Elysium Of Shades
- Gum Is The Sky
- Here, At A Meagre Earth
- How Tuneful Is The Voice Of Sea
- I Love The Tsarskoselsky Gardens
- In ocean waves there's melody...
- It's There, Still There
- Just as the ocean cradles our earth's or...
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.