Classic Poem

And the minstrel sung, and they praised and listen'd—
Gazed and praised while the minstrel sung.
Flusht was each cheek, and each fixt eye glisten'd,
And husht was each voice to the minstrel's tongue.
But the Earl grew paler more and more
As the song of the singer grew louder and clearer,
And so dumb was the hall, you might hear the roar
Of the sea in its pauses grow nearer and drearer.
And … hush! hush! hush!
O was it the wind? or was it the rush
Of the restless waters that tumble and splash
On the wild sea-rocks? or was it the crash
Of stones on the old wet bridge up there?
Or the sound of the tempest come over the main?
—Nay, but just now the night was fair.
Was it the march of the midnight rain
Clattering down in the courts? or the crash
Of armour yonder? … Listen again!