 | Clarel |  |
“O city,” Rolfe cried; “house on moor,
With shutters burst and blackened door—
Like that thou showest; and the gales
Still round thee blow the Banshee-wails:
Well might the priest in temple start,
Hearing the voice—‘Woe, we depart!’”
With shutters burst and blackened door—
Like that thou showest; and the gales
123
Well might the priest in temple start,
Hearing the voice—‘Woe, we depart!’”
| Clarel | |