The Phantom of the Silver Stallion

When the splendid moon is full,

Shining with all its might,

When the trees, the houses, the lakes, the streams

Are all painted silvery white,

When the wind is whistling among the rustling trees

And in the dark no man can be seen,

As everything appears to freeze.

Then in the dead of the night,

When no one else is in sight

It comes out galloping like a sprite                                                                                   Ghost_Horse_by_GothicSword

So blanched and ghostly white

A phantom in the pale moonlight.

Taking its colour from the moon,

The silver stallion haunting the night.

Is it the truth,

Or just a mirage

Cheating the dark earth’s visage?

It comes and goes

And to and fro

From where and where to,

No one knows.

Not a word to the velvet darkness above

No neighing or crying for some lost love

No show of any trace of emotion

What is the silver phantom’s intention?

Noiseless the whisper of his silver mane

Stalks the wind of the woods again

Vanishes at dawn,

leaving the earth bleak and desolate

And not a creature wiser about the mystery of Fate.

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