I heard a clash, and a cry,
And a horseman fleeing the wood.
The moon hid in a cloud.
Deep in shadow I stood.
'Ugly work!' thought I,
Holding my breath.
'Men must be cruel and proud,
'Jousting for death'.
With gusty glimmering shone
The moon; and the wind blew colder.
A man went over the hill,
Bent to his horse's shoulder.
'Time for me to be gone'…
Darkly I fled.
Owls in the wood were shrill,
And the moon sank red.
Middle-ages
Siegfried Sassoon
(1)
Poem topics: breath, cloud, death, horse, red, time, wind, work, shadow, deep, ugly, thought, shoulder, moon, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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