The Windy Night Alow and aloof, Over the roof, How the midnight tempests howl! With a dreary voice, like the dismal tune Through limbs that creak, They cry and flit, "Tu-whit! tu-who!" like the solemn owl! With a clatter and patter, Like hail and rain That well nigh shatter The dusky pane! Alow and aloof, Over the roof, How the tempests swell and roar! The World Beautifu The World Lie dozing along the kitchen floor, Beautiful There are feet of air On every stair! Through every hall Through each gusty door, There's a jostle and bustle, With a silken rustle, Like the meeting of guests at a festival! Alow and aloof, Over the roof, How the stormy tempests swell! And make the vane On the spire complain They heave at the steeple with might and main Into the belfry, on the bell! They smite it so hard, and they smite it so well, And dreams he is ringing a funeral knell! The Brook I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. With many a curve my banks I fret, I chatter, chatter, as I flow I wind about, and in and out, And here and there a foamy flake With many a silvery waterbreak The World Beautiful The World Beautiful I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, I murmur under moon and stars And out again I curve and flow For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever. ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. The Brook in Winter Down swept the chill wind from the mountain peak, From the snow five thousand summers old; On open wold and hill-top bleak It had gathered all the cold, And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek; It carried a shiver everywhere From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare; Down through a frost-leaved forest crypt, Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew; He had caught the nodding bulrush-tops And hung them thickly with diamond drops, No mortal builder's most rare device The World Beautifu |