The Return of Jonathon Grise
I stood on the porch
Like one in a daze,
And stared at the oak panelled door,
She'd shut it so quietly, there, in my face
That I just couldn't take it on board.
Her face was composed, but determined I knew,
Dismissive, but what could it mean?
The wedding we'd planned for the Spring was no more
Said the love of my life, Annie Deane!
I stumbled on out
In the gathering gloom,
And winter crawled into my heart,
The night was a portent of shadows and doom
As an owl fluttered past in the dark,
Storm clouds were filling the evening sky
And the wind set its wail in the trees,
The name of a monster was echoed out there,
The name of one, Jonathon Grise!
He'd come to the village
On just such a night,
Had stopped at the old village Inn,
The brim of his hat hid his face from the sight
Of the publican, signing him in,
He had an old trunk that he dragged to his room,
A magical symbol on top,
The publican smelt some old incense he burned
So he went up, and told him to stop.
I never was told
What was said when he knocked,
The publican staggered back down,
His face and his hair had turned grey, so they say,
When asked, the old man had just frowned.
He never said anything more on the case,
But bowed when he passed, to keep peace,
I sensed something evil, unclean in the man
That we all knew as Jonathon Grise.
He never went out
In the daytime, we knew,
But pottered about in the dark,
His cloak would be seen flaring out in the wind
As he strode through the trees in the park,
He bought the old cottage that stood by the shore
Moved in, with a rottweiler hound,
We dared not approach, or the dog would come out,
Bare its teeth, and start sniffing around.
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poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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