Classic Poem

I walked the hollow pavements of the town,
Lost in the vast entirety of night,
The moon was cankered with a greyish blight,
And half her face was gathered in a frown.
A hooded watchman passed me, and his gown
Was dyed so black it made the darkness white,
He turned upon my face his curious light,
And whispered as he wandered up and down.

Then there were curling lanes and then a hill,
And sentry stars that guard the Absolute,
And spectral feet that followed me, until
The vapours rose, and somewhere in the mute
And hesitating dawn, a single flute
Piped once again the grey, and then was still.