Reading, and reading—little is the gain
   Long dwelling with the minds of dead men leaves
List rather to the melancholy rain,
                                Drop—dropping form the eaves

Still the old tale—how hardly worth the telling!
   hark to the wind!again that mournful sound,
That, all night long, around this lonely dwelling,
                                Moans like a dying hound.

This poem is in the public domain.