Shapes & Shadows by Madison Cawein — Read

The year was dying, and the day / Was almost dead; / The West, beneath a sombre gray, / Was sombre red. / The gravestones in the ghostly light, / 'Mid trees half bare, / Seemed phantoms, clothed in glimmering white, / That haunted there.

I stood beside the grave of one, / Who, here in life, / Had wronged my home; who had undone / My child and wife. / I stood beside his grave until / The moon came up -- / As if the dark, unhallowed hill / Lifted a cup.