We hear the blind and aimless galloping <br />Of an errant rider from the days gome by: <br />The shackled souls of sunken forests moan <br />As ancient marshes waken with a sigh. <br /> <br />Where here and there the thickets, coppices <br />Are choked in patches, densely in a strife, <br />The spectres of the ancient wintry tales <br />Are now awakened to a sudden life. <br /> <br />Here are the thickets, here the coppices. <br />Here are the dismal tunes of bygone choirs: <br />They have been hidden in a murky fog <br />Since martial times of our grim, gallant sires. <br /> <br />Dreary and haunted are the autumn days, <br />The people numbert less and always less; <br />And on the hill-surrounded swampy plain <br />November walks encloaked in foggy dress. <br /> <br />The naked plain begins quite suddenly <br />To nurture reeds and marsh of rotten trees, <br />Concealing its November foggy self <br />In gloomy mists of bygone centuries. <br /> <br />Nothing but blood, nothing but mystery, <br />Nothing but pressures, forefathers mystify; <br />Nothing but forests, marshes, reeds and canes, <br />Nothing but madmen of the days gone by. <br /> <br />The errant rider from the long ago <br />Follows the path along the recent swale; <br />There is mo light, there are no burning lamps, <br />There are no villages along the trail. <br /> <br />The villages are mutely slumbering, <br />Freezing they dream of bygones in their lair <br />As from the foggy thickets rush and fun <br />The bison, wolf and, ragingly, the bear. <br /> <br />We hear the blind and aimless galloping <br />Of an errant rider from the days gone by; <br />The shackled souls of sunken forests moan <br />As ancient marshes waken with a sigh.<br /><br />Endre Ady<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lost-rider/
