The Somnambulist

Oaks and a water. By the water--eyes, Ice-green and steadfast as still stars; and hair Yellow as eyes deep in a she-wolf’s lair; And limbs--like mist the lightning’s flicker dyes. The humped oaks huddle under iron skies; The dry wind whirls the dead leaves everywhere; White on the water falls a vulture-glare Of moon, and black the circling raven flies. Again the power of this thing hath laid Compulsion on me: and I seem to hear A sweet voice calling me beyond the gates To longed-for love: I come: each forest glade Seems reaching out white arms to draw me near-- Nearer and nearer to the death that waits.