Answer:
March Evening by Amy Lowell As day comes to an end, it succumbs to the drizzle of the evening. Blue through the window burns the twilight; Heavy, through trees, blows the warm south wind. Glistening, against the chill, gray sky light, Wet, black branches are barred and entwined. The speaker rushes for shelter as the drizzle of the evening envelopes her. 0 Daytime is tired and worn down from all the rain and wind. Sodden and spongy, the scarce-green grass plot Dents into pools where a foot has been. Puddles lie spilt in the road a mass, not Of water, but steel, with its cold, hard sheen. O Day tries to protect itself from evening by cloaking itself against the rain. Faint fades the fire on the hearth, its embers Scattering wide at a stronger gust. Above, the old weathercock groans, but remembers Creaking, to turn, in its centuried rust. Dying, forlorn, in dreary sorrow, Wrapping the mists round her withering form, Day sinks down; and in darkness to-morrow Travails to birth in the womb of the storm.Explanation:
