Poems of Madison Cawein Vol. 4 — Under Dark Skies

I

Hills rolled in woods, that lair the lynx and fox;

Harsh fields, that lean before the woods' advance As wild-men fly from hunters, tossing locks Through which their eyes of yellow fire glance;

Great blurs of briers and lugubrious rocks,-- A bristling blackness,--with a pool beneath, Whereo'er the wisps, like something evil, dance;

And then a house like the wrecked face of death.

II

There where the moon hangs sinister, o'er parched And haggard thorns,--a golden battle-bow, Or shield of bronze, old wars have scarred and scorched,-- What crime hath cursed it ...

who shall ever know?

-- Night only!

Night, with flickering flame, who torched That moment when blood branded black its sod, And in the pool a ghastly face sank slow Beneath the storm and rushing fire of God.

REMBRANDTS