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Edith Nesbit - Teint Neutre
Work rating: Low

WIDE downs all gray, with gray of clouds roofed over, 
    Chill fields stripped naked of their gown of grain, 
Small fields of rain-wet grass and close-grown clover, 
    Wet, wind-blown trees--and, over all, the rain. 


Does memory lie? For Hope her missal closes 
    So far away the may and roses seem; 
Ah! was there ever a garden red with roses? 
    Ah! were you ever mine save in a dream? 


So long it is since Spring, the skylark waking 
    Heard her own praises in his perfect strain; 
Low hang the clouds, the sad year`s heart is breaking, 
    And mine, my heart--and, over all, the rain.
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