The joys of the feast deeply sank in her heart,
Like the rest of the guests she was loth to depart.
And now, the repast being greatly diminish’d,
By ravens and vultures is speedily finish’d.
The tempest has ceased, the wilds beasts are at rest,
And each tiny quadruped lies in his nest.
Once more o’er the landscape the long shadows creep,
The repose and the darkness soon lull them to sleep,
For nothing is heard in the once noisy land,
Save the whip-poor-will telling that night is at hand.