BESIDE the landsman knelt a dame, And slowly pushed the pages o'er; Still by the hearth-fire's spending flame She waited, while a hollow roar Came from the chimney, and the breath Of twice seven hounds upon the floor; And, save the old man's labored moan, The night had no sound more. The fire flickered; with a start The master hound upflung his head; Sudden he whined, when with one spring Each hunter bounded from his bed, -- And through rent blind and bolted door All voiceless every creature fled; The blinking watcher closed her book: "Amen, our lord is dead!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SONNET TO THOSE WHO SEE BUT DARKLY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CRYING, 'THALASSUS!' by JOSEPH AUSLANDER SONNET: 8 by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE TEACHER'S MONOLOGUE by CHARLOTTE BRONTE AULD ROB MORRIS by ROBERT BURNS |