Page:Bürger's Lenore, Rossetti 1900.djvu/33



Thus grief racked and tore the breast of Lenore, And was busy at her brain; Thus rose her cry to the Power on high, To question and arraign: Wringing her hands and beating her breast,— Tossing and rocking without any rest;— Till from her light veil the moon shone thro', And the stars leapt out on the darkling blue.

But hark to the clatter and the pat pat patter! Of a horse's heavy hoof! How the steel clanks and rings as the rider springs! How the echo shouts aloof! While slightly and lightly the gentle bell Tingles and jingles softly and well; And low and clear through the door plank thin Comes the voice without to the ear within: