Classic Poem

A week ago September dead October's moon set in
For some days heavy mists were shed upon her crescent horn
A night of rain the fog remained, then sunrise fresh and clear
With gentle smile the doubt reproved which mourned the failing year
The Autum day its course has run — the Autum evening falls
Already ris'n, the Autum moon gleams quiet on these walls
A frost her light upon the fields — to silver bleaches pale
The untrodden road a lustre yields as white as hoary hail
But dark the line of woodland farms where heavy boughs embrowned
Still wait November's sleety storms to shed their honour round
Sable and pale the scene appears and but for Heaven's deep blue
And Luna's gold this landscape wears a wan and phantom hue
No blush, no flush no amber brightness
A neutral shade — a tintless whiteness
Chaste night and tranquil! not too chill
No wintry frostiness breathes from the hill
Bent from my lattice I feel no breeze
Sweep o'er those pale fields — stir dusk trees
Lone flows the water — my ear receives
Its sound like the murmur of light airs in leaves
Even from the road not a whisper comes
Nor traveler nor wanderer its white track roams
And my house is silent — in every room
There is but moonlight — and vacant gloom
How 'mid this marble — this darkness, this snow
Can my heart beat and my warm blood flow?
How where there is but shade and gleam
Can my mind vary its tinted dream
I see only woods as black as clouds
I trace only meadows blanched as shrouds
In the starlight and moonlight darkly clear
Hollow silence is in my ear