Haunted

A mist covers the swamplands
And makes strange visions appear out of rocks,
A bone-chilling breeze blows tonight;
With gnarled fingers, on windows, the witch-hazel knocks.
The moon tonight, is a ghostly queen -
Robed and regal on her cloudy throne.
In the graveyard, among broken head-stones,
Is heard the masterless dog's howling moan.
Hearest that pattering, as of owl's wings?
Somebody walks with footsteps light -
Or mayhap something, goblin or ghoul,
Fit inhabitant of this dreary night.
Someone's cloaks a-flutter in the wind,
Their robes are caught on hawthorn bushes.
A maiden ‘tis, with countenance pale -
Her raven hair crowned with rushes.
Death peers out of her sallow face
And smiles from her glittering eyes -
Mocking and strange is her unearthly smile
As though in her heart some secret lies.
A secret ‘tis, a full sordid tale,
A mishap she'll confide only in you.
For sure she is, in this short time,
That you are to become her companion true,
Truly, 'tis a tale of wondrous sorrows -
Told, for she trusts you above all else.
Nay she will even lead you to the place
Where unfolded the events that now she tells.
Bewitching, befuddling, enchanting is her voice-
As sweet and silver as of the morning lark.
So enthralling is her story of terror,
You'll ne'er know when you entered places dark.
And now she's almost ended the story of her life -
"Then they drove through my heart with a stave"
She whispers, and as you try to cling to reason,
Your eyes alight on an ancient, open grave.
And before the night is done, in a nearby village
Shall arrive a dusty, travel-worn lass -
Her eyes glittering, her fair face worn;
Her plait a lovely raven mass.