Dark grow the windows,
And quenched is the fire;
Sound fades into silence,-
All footsteps retire.

No voice in the chambers,

No sound in the hall! Sleep and oblivion

Reign over all!

II.

The book is completed,

And closed, like the day;

And the hand that has written it Lays it away.

Dim grow its fancies,

Forgotten they lie;

Like coals in the ashes,

They darken and die.

Song sinks into silence,
The story is told,

The windows are darkened,

The hearth-stone is cold.

Darker and darker

The black shadows fall;

Sleep and oblivion

Reign over all.

BIRDS OF PASSAGE.

COME I GRU VAN CANTANDO LOR LAI, FACENDO IN AER DI SE LUNGA RIGA.-Dante.

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