XXVIII.

And when upon a silent, sullen day, With a Sirocco, for example, blowing, When even the sea looks dim with all its spray, And sulkily the river's ripple's flowing, And the sky shows that very ancient gray, The sober, sad antithesis to glowing,-- 'T is pleasant, if _then_ anything is pleasant, To catch a glimpse even of a pretty peasant.