The hour was late; the fire burned low, The Landlord's eyes were closed in sleep, And near the story's end a deep Sonorous sound at times was heard, As when the distant bagpipes blow. At this all laughed; the Landlord stirred, As one awaking from a swound, And, gazing anxiously around, Protested that he had not slept, But only shut his eyes, and kept His ears attentive to each word. Then all arose, and said "Good Night." Alone remained the drowsy Squire To rake the embers of the fire, And quench the waning parlor light. While from the windows, here and there, The scattered lamps a moment gleamed, And the illumined hostel seemed The constellation of the Bear, Downward, athwart the misty air, Sinking and setting toward the sun, Far off the village clock struck one. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BURNING DAWN by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE LITTLE FIRE IN THE WOODS by HAYDEN CARRUTH A PECK OF GOLD by ROBERT FROST LITTLE SON by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MATE (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON VOICES OF THE AIR by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |