No VIII.
The Clouds frown dark.
The clouds frown dark upon the sky, 1
And the night wind moans as it rustles by ; 2
The stream runs down with a heavy sound, 3
And all is dreary and dull around.4
Fitful, between the parted shroud5
Of the rifted, melancholy cloud, 6
A bright star twinkles, and then is hid7
Beneath the moving pyramid.8
’Tis a gloomy landscape, and all is still, 9
Save bleat of lamb from the distant hill, 10
Save the watch-dog’s hollow bay on the breeze, 11
And the night-wind tossing the sullen trees,12
The long weeds hang o’er the massy gate13
Of the watch-tower, ruined and desolate, 14
Its idle door no menial bars, 15
And with every blast it creaks and jars.16
Desponding, and dreary, and full of strife, 17
Are the thoughts that brood o’er our human life ; 18
The blood runs cold as the hemlocks wave. 19
With ominous sound o’er the lowly grave !20