There is a grey thing that lives in the tree-tops None know the horror of its sight Save those who meet death in the wilderness But one is enabled To see branches move at its passing To hear at times the wail of black laughter And to come often upon mystic places Places where the thing has just been. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME by EDWIN MARKHAM TO COLE, THE PAINTER, DEPARTING FOR EUROPE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE LITANY: 10. THE MARTYRS by JOHN DONNE ENVOY, TO 'MORE SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA' by RICHARD HOVEY THE SWAMP ANGEL by HERMAN MELVILLE PROMISES LIKE A PIE-CRUST by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI CALIBAN [ON THE ISLAND], FR. THE TEMPEST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |