Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/78

18 Or Poverty.

Post-boy drove with fierce career,

For threatening clouds the moon had drowned;

When suddenly I seemed to hear

A moan, a lamentable sound.

As if the wind blew many ways

I heard the sound,—and more and more:

It seemed to follow with the Chaise,

And still I heard it as before.

At length I to the Boy called out;

He stopped his horses at the word;

But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout,

Nor aught else like it could be heard.