Them who read legendes may read of a moor
Where there is ſaid to be a ghoſtly figure around.
Wher he paces about while ſtars all roll o’er;
‘Tis ſaid he won’t leave till what he hunts for is found.
My fellowes and I knewe when we drewe nigh
That Forces Unholie had dwelt in this Terrible Place.
We ſet up our camp beneathe the grey ſky
And ſhivered at darkneſs encroaching apace.
We clutch’d at our muſkets, too frightened to reſt;
Each fearing ye Evil embrace of the breeze.
We watch’d as our ſun fell low in ye Weſt
Sinking behind the ſkeletal arms of the trees.
Our fire went out, and we took turns stand’g guard
But nothing at all came to paſs on that night.
For a week this went on, and though it was hard
Our courage was ſtrengthened as we grew uſed to ye ſite.
On one morn, I was ſent out for ſupplies
As I walked down ye road into towne in ye gloom
I felt meſelf gazed at by many inhuman eyes
And ſaw a ſtone pile that I thought a Druidical tomb.
When I reach’d yonder towne I reſolved I’d inquire
About the hiſtory and the tales of the place.
But on creſting ye hill, I ſaw ye entire
Towne was gone, in its stead was ye face
Of a great, grey impoſsible City,
Made of Metals and of Lights and of Glaſs.
And from ſoulleſs windows, drained of pity,
Ye Denizens mov’d about in a maſs.
I ran madly afeard back, then, to my camp,
But though I looked, I found no trace of it there!
Every man, every gun, every tent, every lamp
Had vaniſh’d as if into air!
There’s ſtill legends told of a ghoſt on a moor
That ye Folk in ye City nearby think they can ſee.
But ev’ry inch of this place have I ſcour’d o’er,
And I’ve yet to ſee anybody but me!
Well, Good Lord, there are so many influences on this poem I don’t know where to begin. Lovecraft’s The Outsider and Charles Dexter Ward (for the writing) are some; also I guess a little bit of Rip Van Winkle, and an ambiguity sort of like Turn of the Screw. Overall, it’s a very Twilight Zone or Outer Limits kind of thing. And probably other influences I’ve forgotten, as well.
I felt this one was pretty clichéd. I have to say I’m not very happy with it, but there it is. Oh, and I had been wanting to do something with “long s” again ever since this post.