AT the moon's down-going, let it be On the quarry hill with its one gnarled tree.; The red-rock road of the underbush, Where the woman came through the summer hush. The sumac high and the elder thick, Where we found the stone and the ragged stick The trampled road of the thicket, full Of footprints down to the quarry pool. The rocks that ooze with the hue of lead, Where we found her lying stark and dead. The scraggy wood; the Negro hut, With its doors and windows locked and shut. A secret signal; a foot's rough tramp; A knock at the door; a lifted lamp. An oath; a scuffle; a ring of masks; A voice that answers a voice that asks. A group of shadows; the moon's red fleck; A running noose and a man's bared neck. A word, a curse, and a shape that swings; The lonely night and a bat's black wings.; At the moon's down-going, let it be On the quarry hill with its one gnarled tree. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON THE DEATH OF SIR ALBERT MORTON'S WIFE by MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN by ALFRED TENNYSON FIVE LITTLE WANDERINGS: 2. CHILDHOOD by BERTON BRALEY THE DESCENDANT AND THE ID (MONOLOGUE IN REGARD TO HEREDITY) by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH THE PLACE OF FAME by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB SPECIOUS AND SUPERFICIAL WRITERS by JOHN BYROM |