Explore "Mendicants" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ Bleak, in dark rags of clouds, the day begins, / That passed so splendidly but yesterday, / Wrapped in magnificence of gold and gray, / And poppy and rose. Now, burdened as with sins, / Their wildness clad in fogs, like coats of skins, / Tattered and streaked with rain; gaunt, clogged with clay, / The mendicant Hours take their somber way / Westward o'er Earth, to which no sunray wins. / Their splashing sandals ooze; their foosteps drip, / Puddle and brim with moisture; their sad hair / Is tagged with haggard drops, that with their eyes' / Slow streams are blent; each sullen fingertip / Rivers; while round them, in the grief-drenched air / Wearies the wind of their perpetual sighs.