<h2><SPAN name="page119"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>A TRAGEDY</h2>
<p class="poetry">Who’s that walking on the moorland?<br/>
Who’s that moving on the hill?<br/>
They are passing ’mid the bracken,<br/>
But the shadows grow and blacken<br/>
And I cannot see them clearly on the hill.</p>
<p class="poetry">Who’s that calling on the moorland?<br/>
Who’s that crying on the hill?<br/>
Was it bird or was it human,<br/>
Was it child, or man, or woman,<br/>
Who was calling so sadly on the hill?</p>
<p class="poetry"><SPAN name="page120"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
120</span>Who’s that running on the moorland?<br/>
Who’s that flying on the hill?<br/>
He is there—and there again,<br/>
But you cannot see him plain,<br/>
For the shadow lies so darkly on the hill.</p>
<p class="poetry">What’s that lying in the heather?<br/>
What’s that lurking on the hill?<br/>
My horse will go no nearer,<br/>
And I cannot see it clearer,<br/>
But there’s something that is lying on the
hill.</p>
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