The Sun kept stooping—stooping

152 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!