And the pallid moonbeams waning--
Sad the heavens, sad the night!
Sudden halt the weary horses,
Silent too the sleighbells whirr--
Look! What crouches on the ground there?
"Wolf,--or shrub,--I know not, Sir."

How the wind's brood rage and whimper!
Scenting, blow the triple team;
See! One hops here! Forward Driver!
How his eyes with evil gleam!
Scarce controllable the horses,
How the harness bells resound!
Look! With what a sneering grimace
Now the spirit band surround!

In an endless long procession,
Formless, countless of their kind
Circle us in flying coveys
Like the leaves in Autumn wind.
Now in ghastly silence deathly,
Now with shrilling elfin cry--
Is it some mad dance of bridal,
Or a death march passing by?

Stormy clouds delirious straying
Showers of snowflakes whirling white,
And the pallid moonbeams waning--
Sad the heavens, sad the night!
Cloudward course the evil spirits