Paul
Who remembers that famous day
I on the opposite shore will be
then he said good night
just as the moon rose over the bay
Through alley and street
till in the silence
the measured tread
he climbed to the tower
up the wooden stairs
to the highest window in the wall
the moonlight flowing over all
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
the watchful night-wind
a moment only he feels the spell
of the lonely belfry
shadowy something far away
lonely and spectral and sombre
a gleam of light
a shape in the moonlight
the damp of the river-fog
gaze at him with a spectral glare
He heard the bleating of the flock
felt the breath of the morning breeze
then crossing the fields
and so through the night went his cry
a voice in the darkness,
borne on the night-wind of the past,
in the hour of darkness
waken and listen to hear
the midnight message
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.