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The Day Is Not Lost.
Grey washed white shows muted sky
on day of uninspiring dawn.
Half hearted daisies mock the grass,
and all lies browning, overgrown,
bent to kiss the ground forlorn
when tightly held where 'cleavers' tie.
Springtime passion since fulfilled
long now lost, it's youthful joy.
But in the hedge a purple sheen
where petals fall upon a bough,
and to the air gives sweet embrace.
hidden well amidst the green
with pink tinged blush are cherries now.
A stirring eye shall pierce decay
to reach beneath all sad disgrace.
