THE TRAVELLER BENIGHTED
Reading edition
On through the quiet country-side The road runs small and white, The trees stand still on either side As if to watch me there— But stilled, stilled is the air At the oncome of night. And see, behind my back the moon Eyes me with steadfast gaze; I did not think she’d spill so soon Her silver in the brook— But calm, calm is her look As she mounts through the haze. As though I’d shed it like a husk, My body casts no shade; I walk suspended in the dusk Just as a spirit might, For yet, yet there is light In the west—but ’twill fade Yes, fade it will, and I shall trace My bobbing shadow spread Before me on the whitened face Of the road where I must go. And then, then I shall know What it is that I dread.