The Mysterious Rider

UPON a steed he came with speed,
The Day behind him breaking;
And still he sped when Day o'erhead
Her last farewell was taking.

'Ah, whither fliest?-Name thy goal!'
'The Dark from which I bounded!'
He spake and fled; and in my soul,
The voice night-long resounded.

Joseph Skipsey The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.