While lounging in a chair - Afanasy Afanasevich Fet

While lounging in a chair, I looked up at the ceiling
   Where, teasing my imagination,
A circle hangs above the quiet lamp,
   And spins just like a ghostly shadow.

Within the flicker there's a trace of autumn sunset:
   As if, above the rooftop and the garden,
Unable to fly off, afraid to land,
   Dark flocks of blackbirds circle...
 
No, it's not wings I hear, but hooves at the front gate!
   I hear the trembling hands ...
How chill the pallor of a lovely face!
   How bitter parting's whisper! ...
 
Lost and in silence, I survey the distant road
   Beyond the dimming garden,—
While the impatient flock of blackbirds,
   Unsheltered, circles still.

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Afanasy Afanasevich Fet (1820 - 1892) Russia