Glum is the sky, by night imprisoned,
As over it the dark clouds creep,
Not menacing or wistful is it,
But plunged in dreary, torpid sleep.
Alone the streaks of lightning, bursting
Through cloud and shadow, seem to be,
As they flare up and blaze, conversing
Like deaf-mute demons soundlessly.
As at a signal, for an instant
A strip of sky is lit, and Lo! -
From out the murk the forests distant
Emerge, set suddenly aglow.
But the light dies, the darkness fleeing
That cloaks the startled, wakeful sky,
And all is still... Is a plot being
Hatched in the silent wastes on high?..
A captivating account of mysticism inherent in the manifestations of nature. A well deserved classic poem of the day.
morose there is in the heart, menacing or wistful the mind marching favoring the dejection it wanna to possess all like the sky but decaying in the waste of highness...................................
Great imagery, a work of an intricate mind............ Thanks for sharing.
What a perfect picture of a dark cloudy sky! One can see the lightening flash.
Thanks for sharing this poem reflecting the lightning, thunder and rain suddenly at night times here too!
But the light dies, the darkness fleeing That cloaks the startled, wakeful sky, And all is still... Is a plot being Hatched in the silent wastes on high? .. Very fine poem. tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The title of this ecellent descriptive poem is not GUM but GLUM IS THE SKY
'excellent', you mean?