When the falling waters utter Something mournful on their way, And departing swallows flutter, Taking leave of bank and brae; When the chaffinch idly sitteth With her mate upon the sheaves, And the wistful robin flitteth Over beds of yellow leaves; When the clouds like ghosts that ponder Evil fate, float by and frown, And the listless wind doth wander Up and down, up and down: