Ne'ermore The Willowy Man

-From my tales of horror I present "The Willowy Man", a poem that belongs to an anthology I wrote based on this ominous Victorian character.

I
Manifold, are the dreary tales of the reaper of death,
Who haunts the long nights of these cold wintry days,
Gathering souls of sinners gasping in their last breath,
With his shameless behaviour and undermining ways.
E'ermore, the willowy man...
II
He is call'd by sundry names within the holy books,
Curst by those righteous tongues of the word of God,
But yet, I found him nigh, beside the unsightly rooks,
Standing there o'er the ground of that unween'd sod.
E'ermore, the willowy man...
III
I was told by the chary folk, that he liv'd in a house,
That was white and full of six rooms and six hallways,
And where the birr sways the fleet feet of the mouse,
As the prying eyes of the bats loom by the doorways. 
E'ermore, the willowy man...
IV
The roof was swath'd with the shade of black on top,
As the shutters of the windows flapp'd back and forth,
And through the frore night, I saw those boughs drop,
When I felt the howling winds bellowing swiftly north.    
E'ermore, the willowy man...
V
They brush'd my hair and ears, as I brook'd the thorns, 
As I stood before the willowy man who I had come to see,
Dress'd in his winter coat, with a top hat hiding his horns, 
As he saw me through the cleft of the stiff trees of his lee.
E'ermore, the willowy man...
VI
"Mr.." I mammer'd, as he answer'd amidst my unsteadiness,
"Mr. Whitmore, do call me that, for 'tis more easier for thee,
And I do not wish to becloud my guests with unhealthiness,
As I grow weary of bilewit men, who in their loftiness dree."
E'ermore, the willowy man...
VII
He then led me into his hoary house of wealth and well-being,
"Thou must be freezing Mr. Timmons, for 'tis the cold weather."
He said to me, but not before, I saw no hint of a wan seeming,
Or did his body quiver amidst the sea fret beyond the heather.
E'ermore, the willowy man...
VIII
"How do you know my name sir? Why aren't your cheeks red?"
I ask'd, as he chuckl'd and said afterwards as we went inside,
"Belike, 'tis the e'erlasting blood of a man of Yorkshire well-bred,
And I beknow all those indwellers of England afar and seaside."
E'ermore, the willowy man...
IX
I was worn and thought nothing of it, and went inside with him,
Where we sat down together, and drank whisky and had a talk, 
"O Scottish whisky, to arose the waft of those wraiths too grim,
For they are those wanderers of the moorland who freely walk."
E'ermore, the willowy man... 
X
I said, "Do forgive my lack of knowledge sir, for it is my first trip,
And I look forward to asking you, about things I have been told."
He had drank his whisky slowly, and then he bit down on his lip, 
"Yes, if what thou wishest to know, I am a man wealthy and bold!"
E'ermore, the willowy man...
XI
"Thus, all I have heard about you sir, is the truth and becoming?"
His answer was, "Hark, to the whispers of the nights of my thralls, 
For they are spry within the living, and their whims forthcoming,
Whilst we sit here, they listen to e'ery word behind these walls."
E'ermore, the willowy man...
XII
Soon, he began to betell in his words, the tale of his beginning,
"I was born in the womb of this earth, and my father was behoveful,
Till I was shunn'd by him, and was an outcast, as I led an uprising, 
That for yearhundreds, hath been always sackless and guileful."
E'ermore, the willowy man...    
XIII
I ask'd, "What do you mean by that sir? How old are you then?
And you speak of your father Mr. Whitmore, as if he was dead?"
He smil'd at me, "He is not dead at all, the mighty maker of men."
He afterwards look'd into my eyes, as he had lift'd up his head. 
E'ermore, the willowy man...
XIV
"I have witness'd, the endless wars and bane with mine eyes,
And seen the ruthless slaughter of fallen men and their moans, 
Whilst, the dastards and uppish hathels backbit their bitter lies,
As those blind wretches of God, had wallow'd with their groans."
E'ermore, the willowy man...
XV
He offer'd me a cigar then, "Doest thou smoke Mr. Timmons?" 
"Yes, I do smoke!" I told him, as I took one to soothe my worry, 
He said, "My last guest, did not smoke or drink, Mr. Simmons,
That unlucky fellow, for I saw within his eyes, so much sorry."
E'ermore, the willowy man...
XVI
The bleak cold it had seem'd, did not bother him much at all,
For often, I saw the sizzling buts of his cigar reach his hand, 
As I took puff after puff swiftly, to keep me warm in the hall,
Whilst windows of the room were full, with frost of the land. 
E'ermore, the willowy man...
XVII
He began afterwards to speak of great leaders of yore, 
"Mr. Timmons, I was there as Caesar had wield'd Rome,
And when Napoleon took Paris amidst that unhing'd gore,
As the world knew me, and many have known mine home."
E'ermore, the willowy man...
XVIII
I thought he was barmy at first but soon, I had an eerie feeling,
That I was sitting across the devil who was telling me a truth, 
"You talk indeed, as if you were there Mr. Whitmore kneeling, 
For they were like many others, madmen who show'd no ruth."
E'ermore, the willowy man...
XIX
"Madmen," he laugh'd out loud as he rose to his feet as I saw,
A blazing fire burning in his eyes, as he star'd at me with scorn,
"Heed this warning!" he yell'd when the rooks had begun to caw, 
And those draperies that were dangling in the room had torn.
E'ermore, the willowy man...
XX
I knew when he stood, I was seeing the devil before me in flesh,
I said as I walk'd backwards, "Bloody be, you are the devil himself!"
He laugh'd again, "Forsooth Mr. Timmons! O thou doest look nesh,
And belike Mr. Timmons, it would be much better, to think of thyself."
E'ermore, the willowy man...
XXI
I took heed to his warning, "Are you going to take my soul now?"
I ask'd as my body shiver'd and sought to flee from this craze,
"No, 'tis not thy time to die," he said with a smirk under his brow,
"Begone, but know that I shall find thee, within this wrought maze."
E'ermore, the willowy man...
XXII
I ran helter-skelter, till I had raught the edge of the moorland,
Ne'er to look back, as I had heard the rooks deafening my ears,
And my tiresome and my numb feet stumbl'd onto a headland,
Where I buried through the blains of chill, my trembling fears!
Ne'ermore, the willowy man...