The Were-Wolf

ALL in the hush of a green night, He left the downy marriage-bed In a chill sweat, his face chalk-white, His voice spoke hoarsely of the dead. The young wife, wakened by his howls, Clutched bed-post dumb with fright, surprise; Like lepers huddled under cowls, Red films lay on her husband’s eyes. “I am become a wolf,” he said, “And I will to the churchyard-site To throttle graves, to raise the dead. Strange flesh will be my fare to-night!” And barking at the slice of moon He scampered nimbly on all fours. She never saw him more; one noon She spied the imprint of wolf’s claws.