A whip-poor-will, far from their din,
Was saying his litanies therein.
Then voices neither loud nor deep:
"Tired, so tired; sleep! ah, sleep!
"The stars are calm, and the earth is warm,
But the sea for an earldom is given to storm.
"Come now, inherit the houses of doom;
Your fields of the sun shall be harried of gloom."
They laid them down; but over long