That wouldn’t let him close his eyes.
But when he heard a thundering knock,—says he,
“That’s, certainly, a messenger for me;—
Somebody ill, in the Brick House, no doubt;”—
Then mutter’d, hurrying on his dressing-gown,
“I wish my Ladies, out of town,
Chose more convenient times for crying out!”
Crow, in the dark, now, reached the stair-case head;
Shove, in the dark, was coming up to bed.