Deserted, it stands in a cup Of the hills at the edge of town. Inside is a shadowy stair -- And who stood smiling up To beauty smiling down When the old house was fair? For some reason or other It is called the haunted house -- But no one seems to know! Now climbing roses smother The cries of hinge and shutter When fragrant hill winds blow. The sound of a gnawing mouse Was all that broke the utter Silence within. The hush Outside was suddenly broken By the rapture of a thrush -- As if old dreams had spoken At last. Can we forget What our own hearts confess? That places are haunted yet By some lost loveliness? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FUZZY-WUZZY' (SOUDAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE) by RUDYARD KIPLING PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 77. AL-MUTAHALI by EDWIN ARNOLD BOTHWELL: PART 5 by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN TO A FATHER, ON THE DEATH OF HIS ONLY CHILD by BERNARD BARTON THE FOREIGN SAILOR by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |