Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Afternoon in February
The day is ending
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen
The river dead

Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red

The snow recommences;
The buried fences
Mark no longer
The road o'er the plain;

While through the meadows
Like fearful shadows
Slowly passes
A funeral train

The bell is pealing
And every feeling
Within me responds
To the dismal knell;

Shadows are trailing
My heart is bewailing
And tolling within
Like a funeral bell