The Belfry of Bruges and Other Poems/Afternoon in February

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

AFTERNOON IN FEBRUARY.

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The day is ending,The night is descending;The marsh is frozen,The river dead.

Through clouds like ashes,The red sun flashesOn village windowsThat glimmer red.

The snow recommences;The buried fencesMark no longerThe road o'er the plain;

While through the meadows,Like fearful shadows,Slowly passesA funeral train.

The bell is pealing,And every feelingWithin me respondsTo the dismal knell;

Shadows are trailing,My heart is bewailingAnd tolling withinLike a funeral bell.