Drifting snows, and winds careering

Down the tall, wide-throated chimney,

Like the shrieking ghosts from Hades.

Shrieking ghosts of buried legions.

—"Mother! hear I not the wailing

Of a human voice?"

"My daughter!

'Tis the blast that rends the pine-trees.

The old sentry-Oak is broken,

Close beside our chamber-window,