The Sun kept stooping — stooping — low!
The Hills to meet him rose!
On his side, what Transaction!
On their side, what Repose!
Deeper and deeper grew the stain
Upon the window pane —
Thicker and thicker stood the feet
Until the Tyrian
Was crowded dense with Armies —
So gay, so Brigadier —
That I felt martial stirrings
Who once the Cockade wore —
Charged from my chimney corner —
But Nobody was there!