Which he often with his mantle
Sheltered from the falling snow-flakes;
But, whene'er the wind pierced through it,
Bringing forth tones shrill and wailing;
Then around his mouth there played a
Sweet strange smile of melancholy.
Silent through the forest's thicket
On he rode, while often roving
Were his glances--as the case is,
When a wanderer for the first time