COMPOSED AT THE SAME TIME AND ON THE SAME OCCASION

I dropped my pen; and listened to the Wind

That sang of trees up-torn and vessels tost —

A midnight harmony; and wholly lost

To the general sense of men by chains confined

Of business, care, or pleasure; or resigned

To timely sleep. Thought I, the impassioned strain,

Which, without aid of numbers, I sustain,

Like acceptation from the World will find.

Yet some with apprehensive ear shall drink

A dirge devoutly breathed o'er sorrows past;

And to the attendant promise will give heed —

The prophecy,— like that of this wild blast,

Which, while it makes the heart with sadness shrink,

Tells also of bright calms that shall succeed.