2/27/2024 0 Comments Flirtation by rita dove![]() Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast. ![]() The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers! They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years, She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood. She twisted her hands behind her but all the knots held good. ![]() I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way! “Now keep good watch!” and they kissed her. They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast. They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest. Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side.įor Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride. They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,īut they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door. When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor, He did not come in the dawning he did not come at noon Īnd out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon, Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West. (Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!) His face burnt like a brandĪs the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast Īnd he kissed its waves in the moonlight, He rose upright in the stirrups he scarce could reach her hand,īut she loosened her hair in the casement. I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.” Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, “One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize tonight,īut I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like moldy hay,ĭumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say– Where Tim the ostler listened his face was white and peaked Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.Īnd dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred ![]() Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky. They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh. He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,Ī coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door. The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The nighttime and darkness are an essential part of the story - it wouldn’t have been nearly as romantic if it had taken place in the daytime. This one uses vivid imagery to bring the story to life. The images of the sun rolling up her rug and night strewing salt are potent ones, and echo the domestic setting of the poem. In the poem below, the change from day to dark echoes the change in the narrator’s situation, the beginning of a relationship. Here are a few of my favorite poems that make use of day/night imagery. Day and night are frequently used to create mood in poetry.
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