Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, <br /> And howlest, issuing out of night, <br /> With blasts that blow the poplar white, <br /> And lash with storm the streaming pane? <br /> Day, when my crown'd estate begun <br /> To pine in that reverse of doom, <br /> Which sicken'd every living bloom, <br /> And blurr'd the splendour of the sun; <br /> Who usherest in the dolorous hour <br /> With thy quick tears that make the rose <br /> Pull sideways, and the daisy close <br /> Her crimson fringes to the shower; <br /> <br /> Who might'st have heaved a windless flame <br /> Up the deep East, or, whispering, play'd <br /> A chequer-work of beam and shade <br /> Along the hills, yet look'd the same. <br /> <br /> As wan, as chill, as wild as now; <br /> Day, mark'd as with some hideous crime, <br /> When the dark hand struck down thro' time, <br /> And cancell'd nature's best: but thou, <br /> <br /> Lift as thou may'st thy burthen'd brows <br /> Thro' clouds that drench the morning star, <br /> And whirl the ungarner'd sheaf afar, <br /> And sow the sky with flying boughs, <br /> <br /> And up thy vault with roaring sound <br /> Climb thy thick noon, disastrous day; <br /> Touch thy dull goal of joyless gray, <br /> And hide thy shame beneath the ground.<br /><br />Alfred Lord Tennyson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-memoriam-a-h-h-72-risest-thou-thus-dim-dawn-a/
