Classic Poem

When from the palid Sky the Sun descends,
With many a Spot, that o'er his glaring Orb
Uncertain wanders, stain'd; red fiery Streaks
Begin to flush around. The reeling Clouds
Stagger with dizzy Poise, as doubting yet
Which Master to obey; while rising slow,
Blank, in the leaden'd-colour'd east, the Moon
Wears a wan Circle round her blunted Horns.
Seen through the turbid fluctuating Air,
The Stars obtuse emit a shivering Ray;
Or frequent seem to shoot athwart the Gloom,
And long behind them trail the whitening Blaze.
Snatch'd in short Eddies, plays the wither'd Leaf;
And on the Flood the dancing Feather floats.
With broaden'd nostrils to the Sky upturn'd,
The conscious Heifer snuffs the stormy Gale.
Even as the Matron, at her nightly Task,
With pensive Labour draws the flaxen Thread,
The wasted Taper and the crackling Flame
Foretel the blast. But chief the plumy Race,
The Tenants of the Sky, it's Changes speak.
Retiring from the Downs, where all Day long
They pick'd their scanty Fare, a blackening Train
Of clamorous Rooks thick-urge their weary Flight,
And seek the closing Shelter of the Grove.
Assiduous, in his Bower, the wailing Owl
Plies his sad Song. The Cormorant on high
Wheels from the Deep, and screams along the Land.
Loud shrieks the soaring Hern; and with wild Wing
The circling Sea-Fowl cleave the flaky Clouds.
Ocean, unequal press'd, with broken Tide
And blind Commotion heaves; while from the Shore,
Eat into Caverns by the restless Wave,
And Forest-rustling Mountain comes a Voice,
That solemn-sounding, bids the World prepare.