Classic Poem

The forest is shaken in darkness
By the cold, wet autumn breeze;
With my grey cloak wrapped about me,
I ride alone through the trees.

And as I am riding my fancies
Ride faster along my road,
And bear me blithe and lightsome
To my own Love's abode.

The dogs are barking, the servants
Come forth with torches alight;
My spurs clank on the marble,
I rush up the winding flight.

In the bright-lit tapestried chamber
How perfumed it is! how warm!
She awaits me there in her beauty,
I hold her in my arm!

The wind whirls thro' the branches,
The giant oak-tree screams:
“What wouldst thou, frantic horseman,
With all thy frantic dreams?”