The Runner
By Arthur H. Goodenough
White feet!—white feet!
Running in the dew
Where the night is deepest,
While the stars are few,
Do you bear a mortal?
Do you bear a wraith?
But the Night is speechless,
Nought the silence saith.
White feet—light feet—
Speeding in the murk,
Where the gloam is grimmest,
This is witch’s work;
Is a tryst your mission?
Do you flee in fear?
Ask I, but no answer
Falls upon my ear.
White feet—swift feet—
Running in the grass,
I can see the vision,
I can hear you pass;
But to guess your meaning
Is beyond my power;
In the shadow racing
At this lonely hour.
White feet—strange feet—
What is in your wake?
Must your course you finish
’Ere the dawn shall break?
Ugh! I feel a shiver!
Holy Heaven save!
Creature of the darkness
Have you crossed my grave?