The Wild Hunt

by Tamarra James

A hush is on the meadow,
And the sun goes early home.
The wind blows from the northland,
And it chills me to the bone.

Oh my heart remembers
The year just come and gone.
And the beauty of my lover
With his arms about me strong.

Oh, the leaves fall golden
At the dying of the year.
The trees have lost their treasure,
And the wild hunt's drawing near.

For in the fading twilight 
Under hoof and horn and spear
Run wild tormented shadows
At the dying of the year.

Late in the wood last Samhain,
He saw the hunt go by....
Entranced by wraiths and shadows
'Til his voice took up the cry.

But now the hunt's returning.
I wait within the glade
To meet my love this Samhain,
And I'll run beside his shade.

Run when you hear the hunter's horn,
Cover your eyes from the light.
If ever you look on the face Herne,
You'll be captured by the sight.

You'll turn away from the farmer's plow
And the lady you hold dear.
You'll be off and away with the hunter's hands
At the dying of the year.

Appropriate for Samhain 

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