Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/62

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Wildly sweet is its low moaning,

Our sad hearts with rapture toning,

Every chord its power owning,

Yielding a soft thrill;

Clouds across the sky are straying

Leaves in whirling eddies playing,

Birds their farewell notes essaying,

Making concert shrill.

Spirits through the earth are gliding,

In the forest shadows hiding,

Mourning for the short abiding

Of earth's witching bloom:

Hear them when the daylight endeth,

When the dusky eve descendeth,

And her sable pinion blendeth

All things into gloom.

Heed them when the clouds are flying,

In low, solemn whispers sighing,

From each little nook replying,

With a wail of fear:

List them where the insect hummeth,

Where the misty sunlight cometh,

Where the tiny cascade foameth,

Making music clear.

Roam by wood, or field, or river,

Everywhere their voices quiver,

With a sweet, low cadence ever,

Mourning beauty's doom!

Silence now more silent seemeth,

Each bright planet brighter beameth,

And the young moon colder gleameth

Through the solemn gloom.

Now do I go forth communing,

My wild spirit rapture owning,