Noctes Ambrosianae
From Hemlock Mountain’s barren crest
The roaring gale flies down the west
And drifts the snow on Redmount’s breast
In hollows dark with pine.
Full in its path from hill to hill
There stands, beside a ruined mill,
A lonely house, above whose sill
A brace of candles shine.
And there an ancient bachelor
And maiden sister, full three-score,
Sit all forgetful of the roar
Of wind and mountain stream;
Forgot the wind, forgot the snow,
What magic airs about them blow?
They read, in wondering voices low,
The Midsummer Night’s Dream!
And, reading, past their frozen hill
In charmed woods they range at will
And hear the horns of Oberon shrill
Above the plunging Tam;—
Yea, long beyond the cock’s first crow
In dreams they walk where windflowers blow;
Late do they dream, and liker grow
To Charles and Mary Lamb.