Quite Forsaken

What pain, to wake and miss you! To wake with a tightened heart, And mouth reaching forward to kiss you!

This then at last is the dawn, and the bell Clanging at the farm! Such bewilderment Comes with the sight of the room, I cannot tell.

It is raining. Down the half-obscure road Four labourers pass with their scythes Dejectedly;--a huntsman goes by with his load:

A gun, and a bunched-up deer, its four little feet Clustered dead.--And this is the dawn For which I wanted the night to retreat!