The hour was late; the fire burned low, <br />The Landlord's eyes were closed in sleep, <br />And near the story's end a deep, <br />Sonorous sound at times was heard, <br />As when the distant bagpipes blow. <br />At this all laughed; the Landlord stirred, <br />As one awaking from a swound, <br />And, gazing anxiously around, <br />Protested that he had not slept, <br />But only shut his eyes, and kept <br />His ears attentive to each word. <br /> <br />Then all arose, and said 'Good Night.' <br />Alone remained the drowsy Squire <br />To rake the embers of the fire, <br />And quench the waning parlor light; <br />While from the windows, here and there, <br />The scattered lamps a moment gleamed, <br />And the illumined hostel seemed <br />The constellation of the Bear, <br />Downward, athwart the misty air, <br />Sinking and setting toward the sun. <br />Far off the village clock struck one.<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tales-of-a-wayside-inn-part-1-finale/
