The Days How Often More Drear Grow Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
The Days How Often More Drear Grow
From the accustomed drear.
That was enough
But no!
The weather presses on
Ruthless as in race with Time.
Even I
I
I in life from drear to more drear
Long, long have been accustomed
I
And that Custom unfortunate
Showed not ever a sign to abate.
For
Here
From the accustomed drear.
That was enough
But no!
The weather presses on
Ruthless as in race with Time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 4:54:24 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
