IN the white moonlight, where the willow waves, He halfway gallops among the graves— A tiny ghost in the gloom and gleam, Content to dwell where the dead men dream,
But wary still! For they plot him ill; For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm (May God defend us!) to shield from harm. Over the shimmering slabs he goes— Every grave in the dark he knows; But his nest is hidden from human eye Where headstones broken on old graves lie. Wary still! For they plot him ill; For the graveyard rabbit, though sceptics scoff, Charmeth the witch and the wizard off!
The black man creeps, when the night is dim, Fearful, still, on the track of him; Or fleetly follows the way he runs, For he heals the hurts of the conjured ones. Wary still! For they plot him ill; The soul’s bewitched that would find release,— To the graveyard rabbit go for peace!
He holds their secret—he brings a boon Where winds moan wild in the dark o’ the moon; And gold shall glitter and love smile sweet To whoever shall sever his furry feet!
Wary still! For they plot him ill; For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm (May God defend us!) to shield from harm.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
People at the Cemetery
A cemetery with live people! There must be a story here. This is a private postcard, not a clue as to where. From the clothing it must be at the turn of the 1900s. Can anyone create a short story to go with this?