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This is one of my FAVORITE poems. Enjoy.


The Highwayman
By Alfred Noyes


The wind was a torrent of darkness among the trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed up upon cloudy seas
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the pruple moor
And the highway man came riding- riding- 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
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doeskin
They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle, his pistol butts a-twinkle
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard
He tapped his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred
He whistled a tune up to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair

And in the dark old inn-yard a stable wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like moldy hay
But he loved the landlord's daughter, the landlord's red-lipped daughter
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light
Yet, if they press me sharlply and harry me through the day
Look for me by moonlight, watch for me by moonlight
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way"

He rose in stirrups. He scarce should touch her hand
But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight, (O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west

He did not come in the dawning, He did not come at noon
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon over the purple moorA redcoat troop came
marching- marching- marching
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door
They said no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead
But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window, and hell at one dark window
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride

They had tied her to attenetion, with many a sniggering jest
They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast!
"Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say-
Look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come for thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way

She twisted the knots behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They strectched and starined in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years
Till now, on the stroke of midnight, cold, on the stroke of midnight
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest.
Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again
For the road lay bare in the moonlight, blank and bare in the moonlight
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed her to her love's refrain

Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The hooves rang clear
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they could not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill
The highwayman came riding- riding- riding-
The redcoats looked up to their priming! She stood up, straight and still

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew her one ast deep breath
Then her finger moved in the moonlight, Her musket shattered the moonlight
Shatterd her breast in the moonlight and warned him- with her death

He turned. He spurred to the west, he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew gray to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter, the landlord's black-eyed daughter
Had watched her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there

Back, he spurred like a madman, shouting a curse to the sky
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier held high
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velevet coat
When they shot him down on the highway, down like a dog on the highway
And he lay in his blood on the highway, a bunch of lace at his throat

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees
When the moon is a ghastly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
A highwayman comes riding- riding -riding
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the land-lord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.