A stranger came to my gatestead,
A shape uncertain in the dark;
Talbot, my hound, hung down his head,
Whimpered and whined, but would not bark.
I was in a way to thrive;
I had corn to harvest home;
I had a lass to woo and wive -
I had pleasant paths to roam.
And yet this scarecrow, gaunt of limb,
Beckoned me to go with him.
I saw my corn ungarnered rot;
I saw my lass lying alone;
I saw my very name forgot;
And strangers round my own hearthstone.
So deadly clear I heard him say,
'It needs must be, come you away.'
I had no heart to look about
My own kenned house: I shut the door,
And stepped into the night without,
As many a man has done before.
Sufficed, he turned, that figure grim;
Whither he led I could not see;
Blindly I followed after him -
As many a man will, after me.