Rizpah

[ZaunköniG]

Rizpah

Blown through the gusty spaces of the night,
The pale clouds fleet like ghosts along the sky;
A fitful wind goes moaning feebly by,
And the faint moon, poised o'er the craggy height,
Dies in its own uncertain, misty light.
Within the hills the water-springs are dry;
The herbs are withered; and the sand-wastes lie
Dim, wide, and lonely to the weary sight.
Behold! her awful vigil she will keep
Through the wan night as through the burning day;
Though all the world should sleep she will not sleep,
But watch, wild-eyed and fierce, to scare away,
As round and round, with hoarse, low cries they creep,
From her dead sons the hungry beasts of prey.