In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 15

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 labouring breast,

         And topples round the dreary west,

A looming bastion fringed with fire.