Grim's Hall

"Errant"

High, the painful mountains,

Covered with thorny blue pine.

Mists rise from falls like fountains;

Under trees, with outstretched spine,

The sharp spires of fallen cones

Lie atop grey and aged stones.

In the smoke there shapes a girl

Or else in dreams I have with me;

In the darkening I watch her curl,

The helmet propping up my knee.

Too dark to read, with whitened blade,

I carve a staff in living glade.

Come morning I shall go, and ride

The wildr'ness ridge for distant miles;

Below, the wood is green and wide,

Above, geese sway in arching files;

I ride till trees prick sun with lance:

There in smoke my dream will dance.

Sometimes I dream she calls to me,

And reaches out to stroke my face

In that hot white city beside the sea;

But morning wakes upon the waste.

I rise up from my bed of stone,

Take up my boots, and ride alone.