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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
DAYBREAK, by LOUIS UNTERMEYER Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Three years of night and nightmare, years of black Last Line: And darkness but a wide and welcome bed. Alternate Author Name(s): Lewis, Michael Subject(s): Dawn; Sunrise | |||
Three years of night and nightmare, years of black Hate and its murderous attack, Three years of midnight terrors till the brain, Beaten in the intolerable campaign, Saw nothing but a world of driven men And skies that never could be clean again; Hot winds that tore the lungs, great gusts Of rotting madness and forgotten lusts; Hills draped with death; the beat of terrible wings; Flowers that smelt of carrion; monstrous things That crawled on iron bellies over trees And swarmed in blood, till even the seas Were one wet putrefaction, and the earth A violated grave of trampled mirth. What light there was, was only there to show Intolerance delivering blow on blow, Bigotry rampant, honor overborne, And faith derided with a blast of scorn. This was our daily darkness; we had thought All freedom worthless and all beauty naught. The eager, morning-hearted days were gone When we took joy in small things: in the sun, Tracing a delicate pattern through thick leaves, With its long, yellow pencils; or blue eaves Frosted with moonlight, and one ruddy star Ringing against the night, a chime Like an insistent, single rhyme; Or see the full-blown moon stuck on a spar, A puff-ball flower on a rigid stalk; Or think of nothing better than to walk With one small boy and listen to the war Of waters pulling at a stubborn shore; Or laugh to see the waves run out of bounds Like boisterous and shaggy hounds; Watching the stealthy rollers come alive, And shake their silver manes and leap and dive; Or listen with him to the voiceless talk Of fireflies and daisies, feel the late Dusk full of unheard music or vibrate To a more actual magic, hear the notes Of birds with sunset shaking on their throats; Or watch the emerald and olive trees Turn purple ghosts in dusty distances; The city's kindling energy; the sweet Pastoral of an empty street; Foot-ball and friends; lyrics and daffodils; The sovereign splendor of the marching hills -- These were all ours to choose from and enjoy Until this foul disease came to destroy The casual beneficence of life. But now a thin edge, like a merciful knife, Pierces the shadows, and a chiseling ray Cuts the thick folds away. Murmurs of morning, glad, awakening cries, Hints of majestic rhythms, rise. Dawn will not be denied. The blackness shakes, And here a brand and there a beacon breaks Into the glory that will soon be hurled Over a cleared, rejuvenated world -- A world of bright democracies, of fair Disputes, desires, and tolerance everywhere, With laughter loose again, and time enough To feel the warm-lipped and cool-fingered love, With kindly passion lifted from the dead, Where daylight shall be bountifully spread, And darkness but a wide and welcome bed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIS MORNING, GOD by LAURE-ANNE BOSSELAAR BURNING DAWN by HAYDEN CARRUTH DAWN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IN THE GARDEN AT THE DAWN HOUR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS EARLY RISER by NAOMI SHIHAB NYE WORDS WHEN WE NEED THEM by NAOMI SHIHAB NYE A BIRTHDAY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER A VOICE FROM THE SWEAT-SHOPS (A HYMN WITH RESPONSES) by LOUIS UNTERMEYER |
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