Chapter_59

2 0 00

A little breeze came stirring to his cheek.

He looked up to the window. A brown bird

Perched on the sill, bent down to whet his beak

With darting head⁠—Poor Dymer watched and stirred

Uneasily. The lecturer’s voice he heard

Still droning from the dais. The narrow room

Was drowsy, over-solemn, filled with gloom.