Chapter VII

"When, on my left, along the crumbling wall,
Sharp-graved against the pallid afterglow,
I saw a funeral train, with sweeping pall,
And mournful bearers in a double row.
I rubbed my eyes, I looked again, and lo!
No human forms composed that funeral train!"
(The black cat's eyes of gold-stone glitter so!
He rises from the spot where he hath lain
And listens well, as one who does not list in vain.)