Chapter 14 No.14

The skies they were ashen and sober;

The leaves they were crispèd and sere,-

The leaves they were withering and sere;

It was night in the lonesome October

Of my most immemorial year;

It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,

In the misty mid region of Weir,-

It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,

In the ghoul-haunted woodland of