| There was no hand to hold me back
|
| That night I found the ancient track
|
| Over the hill and strained to see
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| The fields that teased my memory.
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| This tree that wall — I knew them well,
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| And all the roofs and orchards fell
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| Familiarly upon my mind
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| As from a past not far behind.
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| I knew what shadows would be cast
|
| As the late moon came up at last
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| From back of Zaman’s Hill, and how
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| The vale would shine three hours from now.
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| And when the path grew steep and high,
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| And seemed to end against the sky,
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| I had no fear of what might rest
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| Beyond that silhouetted crest.
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| Straight on I walked, while all the night
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| Grew pale with phosphorescent light,
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| And wall and farmhouse gable glowed
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| Unearthly by the climbing road.
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| There was the milestone that I knew —
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| «Two miles to Dunwich" — now the view
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| Of distant spire and roofs would dawn
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| With ten more upward paces gone…
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| The was no hand to hold me back
|
| That night I found the ancient track,
|
| And reached the crest to see outspread
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| A valley of the lost and dead;
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| And over Zaman’s Hill the horn
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| Of a malignant moon was born,
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| To light the weeds and vines that grew
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| On ruined walls I never knew.
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| The fox-fire glowed in field and bog,
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| And unknown waters spewed a fog
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| Whose curling talons mocked the thought
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| That I had ever known this spot.
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| Too well I saw from the mad scene
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| That my loved past had never been —
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| Nor was I now upon the trail
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| Descending to that long dead vale.
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| Around was fog — ahead, the spray
|
| Of star-streams in the Milky Way…
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| There was no hand to hold me back
|
| That night I found the ancient track. |