There are ghosts in the room. As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there They come out of the gloom, And they stand at my side and they lean on my chair. There's the ghost of a Hope That lighted my days with a fanciful glow, In her hand is the rope That strangled her life out. Hope was slain long ago. But her ghost comes to-night, With its skeleton face and expressionless eyes, And it stands in the light, And mocks me, and jeers me with sobs and with sighs. There's the ghost of a Joy, A frail, fragile thing, and I prized it too much, And the hands that destroy Clasped it close, and it died at the withering touch. There's the ghost of a Love, Born with joy, reared with hope, died in pain and unrest, But he towers above All the others -- this ghost: yet a ghost at the best. I am weary, and fain Would forget all these dead: but the gibbering host Make my struggle in vain, In each shadowy corner there lurketh a ghost. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLROOM DARK by CLARENCE MAJOR YOUNG SAMMY'S FIRST WILD OATS by GEORGE SANTAYANA WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU by ROBERT BURNS REUBEN BRIGHT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE CENTENARIAN'S STORY by WALT WHITMAN THE HINT O' HAIRST by HEW AINSLIE TEMPEST by ANITA CONCHITA ALLMON |