MIDNIGHT
Alas ! no bird of beauty dips its wing in these dead waters , and plumes itself for an aerial flight of love and joy . But the cold contraction chains down all the freer , beautiful life , into a hopeless , chilling inanity . MIDNIGHT . -- The gloom has gathered into a darkness that may be felt ; and seeing nothing , I would stretch forth my hands to feel if there is anything within my mind to stay my soul upon . But , alas ! in a deep sorrow , how little do mental acquisitions avail !