Gloomy Days
The days are overcast. The ghostly clouds,
That haunt the day, appear by fickle light,
Casting their shadows out upon the world,
And look to be dead, wrapped in mantles of grey,
With faces phantom-like, that seize the mind,
As if some life, some present light, remains,
And have come, now, to tell of some demise,
And of what fallen state is now endured,
Once knowing joy, and that of brightest skies,
To part with that of worth, there at death's door.
