Along the grey and crooked walks,—
A garden of thistledown and tares,
Bright leaves, and giant stalks.
The twilight rain shone at its gates,
Where long-leaved grass in shadow grew;
And black in silence to her mates
A voiceless raven flew.
Lichen and moss the lone stones greened,
Green paths led lightly to its door,
Keen from her lair the spider leaned,