From Hemlock Mountain's barren crest The roaring gale flies down the west And drifts the snow on Redmount's breast In hollows dark with pine. Full in its path from hill to hill There stands, beside a ruined mill, A lonely house, above whose sill A brace of candles shine. And there an ancient bachelor And maiden sister, full three-score, Sit all forgetful of the roar Of wind and mountain stream; Forgot the wind, forgot the snow, What magic airs about them blow? They read, in wondering voices low, The Midsummer Night's Dream! And, reading, past their frozen hill In charmed woods they range at will And hear the horns of Oberon shrill Above the plunging Tam; -- Yea, long beyond the cock's first crow In dreams they walk where windflowers blow; Late do they dream, and liker grow To Charles and Mary Lamb. |