In the still, star-lit night,
By the full fountain and the willow-tree,
I walked, and not alone—
A spirit walked with me!
A shade fell on the grass;
Upon the water fell a deeper shade:
Something the willow stirred,
For to and fro it swayed.
The grass was in a quiver,
The water trembled, and the willow-tree
Sighed softly; I sighed loud—
The spirit taunted me.
All the night long I walked
By the full fountain, dropping icy tears;
I tore the willow leaves,
I tore the long, green spears!
I clutched the quaking grass,
And beat the rough bark of the willow-tree;
I shook the wreathèd boughs,
To make the spirit flee.
It haunted me till dawn,
By the full fountain and the willow-tree;
For with myself I walked—
How could the spirit flee?
Credits
Elizabeth Drew Stoddard was a 19th-century American poet and novelist known for her psychologically intense, unconventional verse that often defied the sentimental norms of her era. "In the Still, Star-Lit Night" exemplifies her gift for weaving gothic atmosphere with sharp inward revelation, using the natural world — water, willow, grass — as a mirror for the mind's unrest.
