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artwork © 2013 Lauren O'Neill‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;

And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
   Of the forest’s ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
   Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
   ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.
artwork © 2013 Lauren O'Neill

But no one descended to the Traveller;

   No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
   Where he stood perplexed and still.
artwork © 2013 Lauren O'NeillBut only a host of phantom listeners

   That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
   To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
   That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
   By the lonely Traveller’s call.
artwork © 2013 Lauren O'NeillAnd he felt in his heart their strangeness,

   Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
   ’Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
   Louder, and lifted his head:—
‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,
   That I kept my word,’ he said.
artwork © 2013 Lauren O'NeillNever the least stir made the listeners,

   Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
   From the one man left awake:
artwork © 2013 Lauren O'NeillAye, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
   And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
   When the plunging hoofs were gone.
 
 
 
All artwork © 2013 Lauren O’Neill
Please do not copy this artwork without attributing them to the artist.
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