West Country Song by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sun came up, bigger than all my sorrow;

Lark in air so high, and his song clean through me.

Now comes night, hushing the lark in's furrow, / And the rain falls fine.

What have I done with what was dearest to me?

Thatch and wick, fagot, and tea on trivet,- / These and more it was; it was all my cheer.

Now comes night, smelling of box and privet, / And the rain falls fine.

Have I left it out in the rain? -It is not here.