  I hear the hoofs of horses Galloping over the hill, Galloping on and galloping on, When all the night is shrill With wind and rain that beats the pane— And my soul with awe is still. For every dripping window Their headlong rush makes bound, Galloping up and galloping by, Then back again and around, Till the gusty roofs ring with their hoofs, And the draughty cellars sound. And then I hear black horsemen Hallooing in the night; Hallooing and hallooing, They ride o’er vale and height, And the branches snap and the shutters clap With the fury of their flight. All night I hear their gallop, And their wild halloo’s alarm; The tree-tops sound and vanes go round In forest and on farm; But never a hair of a thing is there— Only the wind and the storm. Madison Julius Cawein. |
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