18
VIII.
ALICE FELL;
Or Poverty.
The Post-boy drove with fierce career,
For threatening clouds the moon had drowned;
When suddenly I seemed to hear
A moan, a lamentable sound.
As if the wind blew many ways
I heard the sound,—and more and more:
It seemed to follow with the Chaise,
And still I heard it as before.
At length I to the Boy called out;
He stopped his horses at the word;
But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout,
Nor aught else like it could be heard.
