John Leicester Warren: The Pilgrim Cranes

The pilgrim cranes are moving to their south,
    The clouds are herded pale and rolling slow.
One flower is withered in the warm wind's mouth,
    Whereby the gentle waters always flow.

The cloud-fire wanes beyond the lighted trees.
    The sudden glory leaves the mountain dome.
Sleep into night, old anguish mine, and cease
    To listen for a step that will not come.


Another minor late Victorian. Warren (Lord de Tabley) was a baron, botanist and old Etonian. This verse is attractive, but feels as though it contains a more modern (or even more ancient) poem that was half-stifled at birth, no matter how deeply felt.