Here, At A Meagre Earth

Here, at a meagre earth, despondent
And listless stare the dull grey skies,
And, as if plunged in leaden slumber,
A eary nature moveless lies.

Alone the few pale birches, gleaming
Mid greyish moss and stubby brush,
Like visions born of fevered dreaming
Disrupt the lifeless, eerie hush.

Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.