London Studies
OUTSIDE THE MUSEUM
All day it rained, but now the air
Is clear and fine.
The sunset glow has fallen where
The wet streets shine;
They take the colours of the west.
The gold and rose.
Yet over head, I think, is best.
Where softly glows
A space of luminous tender blue.
But flaked with fire.
As though the perfect peace there knew
A pure desire.
Beneath the fluted columns rise.
With grey, broad frieze;
And every dove that coos and flies
Is grey as these.
AFTER THE STORM IN MARCH
Hark! how the wind sighs out of sight
Sorrow and warning.
It raged and wrestled in pain all night,
It sighs at morning.
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