She winded on the castle horn,
She clamored long and bold,
For she was way-spent and forlorn
And she was sore a-cold.
And she stood lonely in the snow.
Vague quiet filled the air....
From heaven's roof looked down aloof
The stars, with steady stare.
She heard the droning drift of snow
And the wolf-wind on the hill....
No other sound.... For leagues around
The night was very still.
She cried aloud in sudden fright,
"Open! Warder ho!
Here is a pilgrim guest to-night
Who can no farther go."
The steady beat of mailed feet
In angry answer rang
Along the floor. The castle door
Gave in with iron clang
And the warder strode into his tower
And saw her standing there
Weary, like a storm-tossed flower,
And, like an angel, fair.
"Here is no lodging for the night,
No bread and wine for thee,
No ingle bright, no warm firelight,
No cheerful company.
"Here is no inn nor any kin
Of thine to harbor guest,
Nor thee to house will any rouse
Out of his ancient rest."
Unearthly, dark, nocturnal things
With faint and furtive stir
Hovered on feather-muffled wings
Round the fair face of her
As she made answer wearily:
"Ah! open now the gate.
Though I was fleet with willing feet,
I have come very late.