And draws a thread of fear ’tween you and me
Pulling thin blindness down across our eyes—
And far within the vale a lost bird cries.
Does not the wind moan round your painted towers
Like rats within an empty granary?
The clapper lost, and long blown out to sea
Your windy doves. And here the black bat cowers
Against your clock that never strikes the hours.
And now I say, has not the mountain’s base
Here trembled long ago unto the cry