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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408408" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Hut by the Black Swamp</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now comes the fierce north-easter, bound <br>About with clouds and racks of rain, <br>And dry, dead leaves go whirling round <br>In rings of dust, and sigh like pain <br>Across the plain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now twilight, with a shadowy hand <br>Of wild dominionship, doth keep <br>Strong hold of hollow straits of land, <br>And watery sounds are loud and deep <br>By gap and steep. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Keen, fitful gusts, that fly before <br>The wings of storm when day hath shut <br>Its eyes on mountains, flaw by flaw, <br>Fleet down by whistling box-tree butt, <br>Against the hut. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, ringed and girt with lurid pomp, <br>Far eastern cliffs start up, and take <br>Thick steaming vapours from a swamp <br>That lieth like a great blind lake, <br>Of face opaque. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The moss that, like a tender grief, <br>About an English ruin clings - <br>What time the wan autumnal leaf <br>Faints, after many wanderings <br>On windy wings - </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That gracious growth, whose quiet green <br>Is as a love in days austere, <br>Was never seen - hath never been - <br>On slab or roof, deserted here <br>For many a year. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor comes the bird whose speech is song - <br>Whose songs are silvery syllables <br>That unto glimmering woods belong, <br>And deep, meandering mountain dells <br>By yellow wells. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But rather here the wild-dog halts, <br>And lifts the paw, and looks, and howls; <br>And here, in ruined forest vaults, <br>Abide dim, dark, death-featured owls, <br>Like monks in cowls. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Across this hut the nettle runs, <br>And livid adders make their lair <br>In corners dank from lack of suns, <br>And out of foetid furrows stare <br>The growths that scare. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here Summer's grasp of fire is laid <br>On bark and slabs that rot, and breed <br>Squat ugly things of deadly shade, <br>The scorpion, and the spiteful seed <br>Of centipede. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unhallowed thunders, harsh and dry, <br>And flaming noontides, mute with heat, <br>Beneath the breathless, brazen sky, <br>Upon these rifted rafters beat <br>With torrid feet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And night by night the fitful gale <br>Doth carry past the bittern's boom, <br>The dingo's yell, the plover's wail, <br>While lumbering shadows start, and loom, <br>And hiss through gloom. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No sign of grace - no hope of green, <br>Cool-blossomed seasons marks the spot; <br>But chained to iron doom, I ween, <br>'Tis left, like skeleton, to rot <br>Where ruth is not. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For on this hut hath murder writ, <br>With bloody fingers, hellish things; <br>And God will never visit it <br>With flower or leaf of sweet-faced Springs, <br>Or gentle wings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Kendall">Henry Kendall</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408408" data-title="The Hut by the Black Swamp de Henry Kendall" data-description="Now comes the fierce north-easter, bound 
About with clouds and racks of rain, 
And dry, dead leaves go whirling round 
In rings of dust, and sigh like pain 
Across the plain. 

Now twilight, with a shadowy hand 
Of wild dominionship, doth keep 
S..."></div>
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