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Alow and aloof, Over the roof, How the midnight tempests howl! With a dreary voice, like the dismal tune Of wolves that bay at the desert moon;— Or whistle and shriek Through limbs that creak, "Tu-who! tu-whit!" They cry and flit, "Tu-whit! tu-who!" like the solemn owl! Alow and aloof, Over the roof, Sweep the moaning winds amain, And wildly dash The elm and ash, Clattering on the window-sash, With a clatter and patter, Like hail and rain That well nigh shatter The dusky pane! Alow and aloof Over the roof, How the tempests swell and roar! Though no foot is astir, Though the cat and the cur Lie dozing along the kitchen floor, There are feet of air On every stair— Through every hall, Through every gusty door, There's a jostle and bustle, With a silken rustle, Like the meeting of guests at a festival! Alow and aloof, Over the roof, How the stormy tempests swell! And make the vane On the spire complain; They heave at the steeple with might and main, And burst and sweep Into the belfry, on the bell! They smite it so hard, and they smite it so well, That the sexton tosses his arms in sleep, And dreams he is ringing a funeral knell! |