There by the stagnant pool he stands,
A fox-fire lamp in flickering hands;
The weeds are slimy to the tread,
And mockingly, and mockingly,
With slanted eyes and eldritch head
He leans above a face long dead,—
The face of me! the face of me!
THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN
On the black road through the wood
As I rode,
There the Headless Horseman stood;
By the wild pool in the wood,
As I rode.
From the shadow of an oak,
As I rode,
Demon steed and rider broke;
By the thunder-shattered oak,
As I rode.
On the waste road through the plain,
As I rode,
At my back he whirled like rain;
On the tempest-blackened plain,
As I rode.
Four fierce hoofs shod red with fire,
As I rode,
Woke the wild rocks, dark and dire;
Eyes and nostrils streamed with fire,
As I rode.
On the deep road through the rocks,
As I rode,
I could reach his horse's locks;
Through the echo-hurling rocks,
As I rode.
And again I looked behind,
As I rode,—
Dark as night and swift as wind,
Towering, he rode behind,
As I rode.
On the steep road down the dell,
As I rode,
In the night I heard a bell,
In the village in the dell,
As I rode.