BETA

The Haunted House.

The rusty gate hangs on its broken hasp,1
The ivy’s green embrace the only clasp.2
The only breath that breathes is deep decay3
Brooding above the spot from day to day.4
The yew-trees twine their arms about the bowers5
Once chosen home of beauteous mingled flowers.6
The green ferns droop above the darkened well,7
The nightingale alone awakes the spell.8
The sundial, overthrown, lies on the lawn,9
And never more shall mark the rising dawn.10
The daisy and the primrose from the grass11
Forget the sound of gliding feet that pass.12
The broken marble fountain throws no stream13
Of dewdrops on the lilies’ waxen gleam.14
Choked is the pool with vegetation rank ;15
Hoarse croak the frogs from out the green weeds
dank ;16
Only the wild-birds ofttimes come to drink17
Their morning sip of nectar from its brink.18
The ringdove builds her airy palace near,19
And coos her love-song to no listening ear.20
The throstle now alone awakes the rose,21
Whose wild thrown sprays aloft the south wind blows.22
No shutters close the staring windows’ eyes ;23
Their sightless orbs look out to meet the skies.24
No living foot treads o’er that silent floor ;25
No human hand throws open wide the door ;26
No fitful firelight banishes the night,27
Nor glides the mouldering walls with ruddy light.28
No shadows dance upon the parlour wall,29
Throwing reflections, weird and grim and tall.30
Only the gray shades of the departed,31
Only the pale ghosts of the true-hearted,32
Hover anon about the closèd door,33
In mute remembrance of the days of yore.34
Through summer’s sunny days and dusky nights,35
Through all prolific Nature’s deep delights,36
’Mid all the desolation, listless roam37
The shades of those who knew the place as home ;38
And down the cedar-walk a lady glides— 39
A velvet hood her dainty beauty hides,40
The satin hoop her tiny feet reveals41
As through the rustling leaves she silent steals ;42
And all adown the deep mysterious glade43
The moonbeams flicker through, and softly fade.44
A youth is strolling slowly by her side,45
The dreamy shades their lingering kisses hide ;46
And through the bushes gleam a pair of eyes,47
And muffled figures from the shadows rise.48
A point of steel has vanished in her breast—49
Her stifled cry and breathing are at rest.50
When Winter’s icy grip of crystal frost,51
When song of bird and running stream are lost,52
When every herb and leaf and fruit and flower53
Slumbers, to gain anew their magic power,54
Then empty echoing silence reigns supreme ;55
No more the sad-eyes ghostly forms are seen.56
’Tis only with the waking touch of Spring,57
When all the woods with fluty voices ring,58
That slender shades creep around the home once
more,59
That stealthy footsteps falter o’er the floor,60
And scare the living from the mournful scene61
Of former joys, and what they might have been.62
They say a curse hangs o’er the old homestead ;63
Hence creeps the bindwood o’er the lilies dead,64
The gray moss clothes the hoary apple spray,65
And all things speak of ruin and decay.66
Perchance if some pure spirit from the skies67
Would loose a tear of pity from her eyes,68
’Twould lay the tireless shades of dark despair69
That through the summer, earth-bound, linger
there.70
Then once again might girlish voices sing,71
And happy chimes of children’s laughter ring,72
And lovers’ whispers murmer deep delights73
Through summer days and silent starry nights.74
Violet Tweedale.