How the rooks caw, and their beaks seem to clank!
Let us just move out there,--(it might be cool
Under those trees,) and watch how the thick tank
By the old mill is black,--a stagnant pool
Of rot and insects. There goes by a lank
Dead hairy dog floating. Will Nature's rule
Of life return hither no more? The plank
Rots in the crushed weeds, and the sun is cruel.