The gray Moon stretches wide her arms And clutches the wild-fleeing night Where on the tempest's shrill alarms A formless word has taken flight -- A word that echoes from the graves Asleep upon the sombre hill; A word that shouts above the waves And breaks the dismal moorland's still; A word that in the gray Moon's light Mounts to the lonely belfry tower And there proclaims to all the night The horror of the fearsome hour! From out the gray Moon's arms stretched wide, Up from the ancient shade there comes A shadow -- of one yet to ride Again from out the crumbled domes Of empires vanished and forgot -- To ride again beneath the new Domes risen o'er the ancient spot -- To slay again, as once he slew With brutal sword the luckless throng Who hailed him as their conqueror -- Who gave him power to be strong, And bowed them down before his power! The gray Moon stretches wide her arms And in the wild-blown world below, How many hear her dread alarms, And hear the brewing tempests blow -- Yet know not from the gray Moon's shade The rider does not ride at all, But in their hearts he has been made -- And given the sword whereby they fall! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DIVINA COMMEDIA (INTRODUCTORY POEMS): 1 by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE THIRD DAY: SCANDERBERG by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW DIFFERENT MINDS by RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH DISARMAMENT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER JUST A-RIDIN'! by ELWOOD ADAMS THE MORAL FABLES: THE LION AND THE MOUSE by AESOP AUNT CAROLINE by ANNYE LEWIS ALLISON |