Classic Poem

A dull gloom hangs above the peaceful fields,
And in the moody mist the houses sleep,
Still as if tenantless!—the vapour shields
The heavens like a secret, that would keep
The doom sealed over our dull hours of sleep.
The evening comes as something not forgiven;
The clouds hang lowly but forbear to weep;—
Noontide and evening weigh the balance even,
And gloom shuts Hopes eyes from the sight of Heaven!