Alfred Noyes Poems
|82.||The Trumpet Call||4/6/2010|
|85.||The War Widow||4/6/2010|
|86.||The Young Friar||4/6/2010|
|87.||To A Successful Man||4/6/2010|
|88.||To The R.A.F||1/3/2003|
|89.||Touchstone On A Bus||4/6/2010|
|93.||What Grandfather Said||4/6/2010|
THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
The Elfin Artist
In a glade of an elfin forest
When Sussex was Eden-new,
I came on an elvish painter
And watched as his picture grew,
A harebell nodded beside him.
He dipt his brush in the dew.
And it might be the wild thyme round him
That shone in the dark strange ring;