Now the hungry lion roars
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy plowman snores,
All with weary task foredone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night,
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite
In the
(
Read more... )