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.