Stern darkness in the woods will frown;
And though I reach my home while yet
The red clouds linger in the west,
Methinks dark forms the woods beset;
They trouble me with sad unrest;
How, yester-eve, the big trees moaned!
Methought for me they sighed and groaned:
The screech-owl screeched above my path—
It seemed to haunt me with its wrath:
And all the gentler birds have flown—