Thus did he speak — this brother of mine - On Exon Wild by Dunkery Tor, Born at my birth of mother of mine, And forthwith went his way
To dare the deed some coming night... I kept the watch with shaking sight, The moon at moments breaking bright, At others glooming gray.
For three full days I heard no sound Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moor, I heard no sound at all around Whether his fay prevailed,
Or one malign the master were, Till some afoot did tidings bear How that, for all his practised care, He had been caught and jailed.
They had heard a crash when twelve had chimed By Mendip east of Dunkery Tor, When twelve had chimed and moonlight climbed; They watched, and he was tracked
By arch and aisle and saint and knight Of sculptured stonework sheeted white In the cathedral's ghostly light, And captured in the act.
Yes; for this Love he loved too well Where Dunkery sights the Severn shore, All for this Love he loved too well He burst the holy bars,
Seized golden vessels from the chest To buy her ornaments of the best, At her ill-witchery's request And lure of eyes like stars...
When blustering March confused the sky In Toneborough Town by Exon Moor, When blustering March confused the sky They stretched him; and he died.
Down in the crowd where I, to see The end of him, stood silently, With a set face he lipped to me - “Remember.” “Ay!” I cried.
By night and day I shadowed her From Toneborough Deane to Dunkery Tor, I shadowed her asleep, astir, And yet I could not bear -
Till Wrestler Joe anon began To figure as her chosen man, And took her to his shining van - To doom a form so fair!
He made it handsome for her sake - And Dunkery smiled to Exon Moor - He made it handsome for her sake, Painting it out and in;
And on the door of apple-green A bright brass knocker soon was seen, And window-curtains white and clean For her to sit within.
And all could see she clave to him As cleaves a cloud to Dunkery Tor, Yea, all could see she clave to him, And every day I said,
“A pity it seems to part those two That hourly grow to love more true: Yet she's the wanton woman who Sent one to swing till dead!”
That blew to blazing all my hate, While Dunkery frowned on Exon Moor, And when the river swelled, her fate Came to her pitilessly...
I dogged her, crying: “Across that plank They use as bridge to reach yon bank A coat and hat lie limp and dank; Your goodman's, can they be?”
She paled, and went, I close behind - And Exon frowned to Dunkery Tor, She went, and I came up behind And tipped the plank that bore
Her, fleetly flitting across to eye What such might bode. She slid awry; And from the current came a cry, A gurgle; and no more.
How that befell no mortal knew From Marlbury Downs to Exon Moor; No mortal knew that deed undue But he who schemed the crime,
Which night still covers... But in dream Those ropes of hair upon the stream He sees, and he will hear that scream Until his judgment-time.
Cookies on Poetry Cove