Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/202

 The pale fierce heavens are crowded With shapes like dreams beclouded, As though the old year enshrouded Lay, long ere life were done.

Full‑charged with old-world wonders, From dusk Tintagel thunders A note that smites and sunders The hard frore fields of air; A trumpet stormier‑sounded Than once from lists rebounded When strong men sense‑confounded Fell thick in tourney there.

From scarce a duskier dwelling Such notes of wail rose welling Through the outer darkness, telling In the awful singer's ears