THROUGH the purple dusk on this pathless heath Wanders a horse with its rider, Death. The steed like its master is old and grim, And the flame in his eye is burning dim. The crown of the rider is red with gold, For he is lord of the lea and the wold. A-tween his ribs, against the sky Glimmer the stars as he rideth by. A hungry scythe o'er his shoulder bare Glints afar through the darkening air, And the sudden clank of his horse's hoof Frightens the Wanderer aloof. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE WRITTEN IN [THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR] 1746 by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) THE INCHCAPE ROCK by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE LAY OF THE LOVER'S FRIEND by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN MEASUREMENTS by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE DEAD BRONCHO-BUSTER by BERTON BRALEY EARTH AND HER PRAISERS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING FOUR EPISTLES: MIRACLE AT THE FEAST OF PENTECOST: 2 by JOHN BYROM |