Cleveland W. Gibson
Later by 200 years or more
I heard the bold robber's call,
beneath my daughter's window
as if no time had passed at all.
“I seek 'ee out at midnight,
in moonlight shining clear,
no Devil from Hell will stop me,
damned, but how else to show I care.”
At that I stepped out of the shadows,
tried to look the ghost in the eye,
alas I smelt fresh blood then heard
his deep anguished sigh.
Above my head shone the stars,
twinkling, giving out a little light,
and the moon did its best,
as on that first fateful night.
He tossed me the leather reins,
I quivered as he landed on the ground,
his face and chest shot to pieces.
Was his blood that dripping sound?
Then the ghostly Highwayman stared,
a rattle, a hacking cough first he gave,
as loud came that crazy laugh,
that still haunts me from the grave.
I froze as I heard a strange sound,
come from the stables, that awful creak.
But the clever spirit found a jug of ale,
so he drank with no need to speak.
Then a nod, his head fixed on the moor,
toward the grim drama of the night,
as I heard the sound of steady marching,
of Dead red-coats into the pale moonlight.
King George's men all swaggering,
muskets sloped as grim as any grave
They marched to the Inn door to enter,
Blind or dead? No look at me they gave.
From the Inn came surreal music, voices
and poor Bess at a window, candle in hand,
to warn her endangered lover.
I thought now wasn't that kinda grand?
I stood still like a statue, moved not one step,
made no noise at all or tried to speak.
But come the tiny crack of first dawn light,
my legs filled with terror, I felt so very weak.
No landlord stays long in this cursed Inn place,
but me as I've worked out all that before,
It's because at night gallops the Highwayman,
as red-faced soldiers march across the moor.
Another rhythm of another time will see his
timeless face astride his phantom steed,
bringing to his beloved lover a bag of gold,
the coins tucked up his sleeve indeed.
Cleveland W. Gibson's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
I thought as it is a new year to try and supply the answer to what happened next.
The POV is of a Landlord of the Inn where it all took place but say 200 years later. The poem 'After' is for all the fans of 'The Highwayman.' That poem also happens to be an outstanding classic with me.
Comments about this poem (After(The Highwayman) by Cleveland W. Gibson )
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