“On slumbrous wings the vulture held his flight,
The dove scarce heard its sighing mate’s complaint;
And like a star, slow drowning in the light,
The village church vane seemed to pale and faint.
*******
“Alone from out the stubble piped the quail,
And croaked the crow through all the dreary gloom;
Alone the pheasant, drumming in the vale,
Made echo to the distant cottage loom.”
*****