In Memoriam XV

TO-NIGHT the winds begin to rise
  And roar from yonder dropping day;
  The last red leaf is whirl'd away,
  The rooks are blown about the skies;
 
  The forest crack'd, the waters curl'd,
  The cattle huddled on the lea;
  And wildly dash'd on tower and tree
  The sunbeam strikes along the world:
 
  And but for fancies, which aver
  That all thy motions gently pass
  Athwart a plane of molten glass,
  I scarce could brook the strain and stir
 
  That makes the barren branches loud;
  And but for fear it is not so,
  The wild unrest that lives in woe
  Would dote and pore on yonder cloud
 
  That rises upward always higher,
  And onward drags a laboring breast,
  And topples round the dreary west,
  A looming bastion fringed with fire.