 | The poetical works of James Montgomery |  |
He waited silently; there came no answer:
The roaring of the tide beneath, the gale
Rustling the forest-leaves, the notes of birds,
And hum of insects,—these were all the sounds
That met familiarly around his ear.
He look'd abroad: there shone no light from heaven
But that of sunset; and no shapes appear'd
But glistering clouds, which melted through the sky
As imperceptibly as they had come;
While all terrestrial objects seem'd the same
As he had ever known them;—still he look'd
And listen'd, till a cold sick feeling sunk
Into his heart, and blighted every hope.
The roaring of the tide beneath, the gale
Rustling the forest-leaves, the notes of birds,
And hum of insects,—these were all the sounds
That met familiarly around his ear.
He look'd abroad: there shone no light from heaven
But that of sunset; and no shapes appear'd
But glistering clouds, which melted through the sky
As imperceptibly as they had come;
While all terrestrial objects seem'd the same
As he had ever known them;—still he look'd
And listen'd, till a cold sick feeling sunk
Into his heart, and blighted every hope.
| The poetical works of James Montgomery | |