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The morning comes, and thickening clouds prevail
Hanging like curtains all the horizon round
Or overhead in heavy stillness sail
So still is day, it seems like night profound

Scarce by the city's din the air is stirred
And dull and deadened comes its every sound
The cock's shrill, piercing voice subdued is heard

By the thick folds of muffling vapors drowned

Dissolved in mists the hills and trees appear
Their outlines lost and blended with the sky
And well-known objects, that to all are near
No longer seem familiar to the eye

But with fantastic forms they mock the sight
As when we grope amid the gloom of night

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