Charles Hamilton Sorley
There where the rusty iron lies,
The rooks are cawing all the day.
Perhaps no man, until he dies,
Will understand them, what they say.
The evening makes the sky like clay.
The slow wind waits for night to rise.
The world is half content. But they
Still trouble all the trees with cries,
That know, and cannot put away,
The yearning to the soul that flies
From day to night, from night to day.
Charles Hamilton Sorley's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Rooks by Charles Hamilton Sorley )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Shackled by Love, Maheshwer Peri
- Lackadaisical, Diane Hine
- Ghost City, Cyndi K. Encinares Gacosta
- The fine things in life, Cyndi K. Encinares Gacosta
- Dead concern, hasmukh amathalal
- Your phallus is, Cyndi K. Encinares Gacosta
- rejection, Cyndi K. Encinares Gacosta
- All You Do Is Take, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- tics, Cyndi K. Encinares Gacosta
- Throwback Stances, Lawrence S. Pertillar