Classic Poem

Whither away, this night so dark,
Shadowy horsemen, ride ye?
With never a star your way to mark
And a whispering wind beside ye.

We ride on to Huntingdon
To the King's company.

The King ye honoured hunts no more;
Long since did Death bespeak him;
He rides no more who rode of yore,
And all in vain ye seek him.

Still keeps he court in Huntingdon,
Where nights are murk and starless,
With phantom lords, and ladies wan,
And ghostly knights in harness.

A shadowy huntsman winds his horn
And shadowy horses follow:
And ghostly hounds before the morn
Give voice through copse and hollow.

Whither away this night so dark,
Whither away go ye?

We ride on to Huntingdon
To the King's company.