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Alfred Lord Tennyson - In Memoriam XV
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TO-NIGHT the winds begin to rise
            And roar from yonder dropping day;
            The last red leaf is whirl`d away,
            The rooks are blown about the skies;
             
            The forest crack`d, the waters curl`d,
            The cattle huddled on the lea;
            And wildly dash`d on tower and tree
            The sunbeam strikes along the world:
             
            And but for fancies, which aver
            That all thy motions gently pass
            Athwart a plane of molten glass,
            I scarce could brook the strain and stir
             
            That makes the barren branches loud;
            And but for fear it is not so,
            The wild unrest that lives in woe
            Would dote and pore on yonder cloud
             
            That rises upward always higher,
            And onward drags a laboring breast,
            And topples round the dreary west,
            A looming bastion fringed with fire.
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