Poetry Archives

The sky of brightest gray seems dark
  To one whose sky was ever white.
To one who never knew a spark,
  Thro’ all his life, of love or light,
  The grayest cloud seems over-bright.

The robin sounds a beggar’s note
  Where one the nightingale has heard,
But he for whom no silver throat
  Its liquid music ever stirred,
  Deems robin still the sweetest bird.