Remembrance

Weird Tales ~ Remembrance автор Robert Ervin Howard

First published in Weird Tales, April 1928

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Eight thousand years ago a man I slew;
I lay in wait beside a sparkling rill
There in an upland valley green and still.
The white stream gurgled where the rushes grew;
The hills were veiled in dreamy hazes blue.
He came along the trail; with savage skill
My spear leaped like a snake to make my kill—
Leaped like a striking snake and pierced him through.

And still when blue haze dreams along the sky
And breezes bring the murmer of the sea,
A whisper thrills me where at ease I lie
Beneath the branches of some mountain tree;
He comes, fog dim, the ghost that will not die,
And with accusing finger points at me.

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