Mirror silver clad she stood, upon the lakes dark shore,
A spectral icy vision , that chilled me to the core.
A vapour’d hand she raised to lead, across the sheet glass lake
With racing heart and awestruck eye, I traced its misty wake
A cold dead air, that chilled my soul, now held my senses keen.
For there among the darkened woods, I saw what can’t be seen.
Like unlit candles stood a host, of mournful waxen dead,
In decaying desperation, with the fixed stares of the mad
My pounding heart so close to fail, beat faster at the sight,
As gliding ever closer drew, these sentinels of night.
What fearful power, what dreadful fate, hath drawn them from the
Whilst I transfixed upon that shore, my sanity I craved.
Then turned the lady of the Lake and fixed her steel grey eyes,
then pointed once again to where, the darkwood secrets lie.
My fading gaze could scarce suppose the horrors there replayed,
Whilst spectre ranks, in silence viewed with countenance dismayed.
Upon my knees, through fingers splayed, and terrified to see,
the horror there unfolding, between those witness trees.
I saw the bloody massacres, heard shocked and dreadful cries,
I felt their fear, and died their deaths, with terror in my eyes .
Each wicked deed, each evil act, each thrust assassins blade,
of every dreadful murder done, within that forest glade.
With screams of death, and cries of loss, the misty shore resounds,
To haunt my soul and flay my ear, upon that hell struck ground.
In faint I fell with senses lost, afraid to look again,
as words she spake in whispered tone, ‘Remember when you wake,
these unjust works, these sinful acts, leave vengeance thirst unslaked,
thus you must tell of this darkwood, beside the silver lake.’