A Sonnet a Day, ...

vi.

For not one waking moment did I see
The blowing wind gasp in desperation,
Nor the sun, bleak, long-shadowed and empty
Returning lifeless to its creation.
Parsimonious and dull was the light
On that day, which by its nature did slow
And reduce all joy to silver of night
Absorbing hope to the darkeness below.
How scant a scene, oh most souless of days!
Which but for a touch could scarce break a smile.
Which found in my heart dispirit, dismay
And no purpose but this mile after mile.
Then when living could no longer abide,
Stopped me here on the day that I died.