The owl his anthem, where the silenced quire
Lie with their Hallelujahs quenched like fire.
LXIII.
But in the noontide of the moon, and when[MG]
The wind is wingéd from one point of heaven,
There moans a strange unearthly sound, which then
Is musical—a dying accent driven
Through the huge Arch, which soars and sinks again.
Some deem it but the distant echo given
Back to the night wind by the waterfall,