Through the slow fire,
Hours on the clock,
Beneath the ancient spires,
To the novel many flock,
We sit in some sense watched,
Beyond this present time when rushed -
Thoughts test, and show preparation best.
Stormy day,
Solemn on the raining wings of mourning clouds,
They chase the wind like rolling flood dragons,
Blotting out the sky with their sublime scales,
And a small being walks,
Awestruck underneath the mourning clouds,
That's a pretty sober spectacle, Dad.