As Jane walked out below the hill, <br />She saw an old man standing still, <br />His eyes in tranced sorrow bound <br />On the broad stretch of barren ground. <br /> <br />His limbs were knarled like aged trees, <br />His thin beard wrapt about his knees, <br />His visage broad and parchment white, <br />Aglint with pale reflected light. <br /> <br />He seemed a creature fall'n afar <br />From some dim planet or faint star. <br />Jane scanned him very close, and soon <br />Cried, ''Tis the old man from the moon.' <br /> <br />He raised his voice, a grating creak, <br />But only to himself would speak. <br />Groaning with tears in piteous pain, <br />'O! O! would I were home again.' <br /> <br />Then Jane ran off, quick as she could, <br />To cheer his heart with drink and food. <br />But ah, too late came ale and bread, <br />She found the poor soul stretched stone-dead. <br />And a new moon rode overhead.<br /><br />Robert Graves<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/jane-10/
