Part 1 of 13.
THE SUN was down, and twilight grey
Fill’d half the air; but in the room,
Whose curtain had been drawn all day,
The twilight was a dusky gloom:
Which seem’d at first as still as death,
And void; but was indeed all rife
With subtle thrills, the pulse and breath
Of multitudinous lower life.
In their abrupt and headlong way
Bewilder’d flies for light had dash’d
Against the curtain all the day,
And now slept wintrily abash’d,
And nimble mice slept, wearied out
With such a double night’s uproar;
But solid beetles crawl’d about
The chilly hearth and floor.
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