The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crispèd and sere ~
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night, in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir ~
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodlands of Weir.
~ Edgar Allan Poe
