Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE HAUNTED RUIN, by EDWARD NOYES POMEROY


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE HAUNTED RUIN, by                    
First Line: The place, untouched by vice or crime
Last Line: And joins the phantoms there.
Subject(s): Desolation; Haunted Houses


All houses wherein men have lived and died are haunted houses.
—Longfellow.

The place, untouched by vice or crime,
Is yielding to decay;
And patient Nature bides her time
To gain her ancient sway.

Nearer and nearer, year by year,
The wildwood's tangle creeps;
And springtime hints of harvests here
That autumn never reaps.

The graceless squirrel frolics nigh
And looks askance at me;
A houseless vagabond am I,
Lord of the manor he.

The spring, that slaked the stranger's thirst
With mud and weeds is filled;
Where the shy robins builded erst
Their bold descendants build.

A desecrated violet bed,
A pansy, weed-entombed,
A rose, of desolation dead,
Tell where a garden bloomed.

The lilac tall, the walk beside,
Whose breath pervades the air,
The housewife, when she came, a bride,
Transplanted fondly there.

The winter storms have rent the roof,
And in these chambers still,
Wherefrom the human holds aloof,
The wild thing has his will.

The hare comes here to multiply
Her fair and foolish kind;
And Reynard sly, intent to spy
A covert to his mind.

Yon blackened pile despoiled, undone,
Bemoans its ravished fire,
Like desolation brooding on
The embers of desire.

The door-step dreams of frequent feet
That gladdened it before;
And phantoms fill the vanished seat
Beside the vanished door.

Like homesick birds from some strange coast,
The spectral guests are come,
Remembering the oldtime toast
"A house that is a home."

They call to mind the hostess' smile
The chimney's cheery flame;
And evening's hour again beguile
With song, and dance and game.

But where are they,—the children born,
Cradled, and nurtured here;
Who broke the stillness of the morn,—
Rivals of chanticleer?

One prayer they prayed, one scheme they laid,
Their aims and dreams the same;
One image in life's glass they made
Till love's estrangement came.

Now, in the golden fleece's quest
Two, reckless, roam the deep;
And two, in the delusive west,
Elusive fortunes heap.

The rest, where troubles ne'er betide,
And storms to stillness yield,
Sleep, as they slept here, side by side
In yonder weed-grown field.

But lo the genius of the place,—
The demon of unrest;
A vagrant now, in evil case,
With all the ills oppressed!

He comes, mayhap, from Lethe's gloom;
His sunken eyes are dim;
Or yet, the portal of the tomb
Has swung ajar for him—

Vacant his visage as of yore;
Disconsolate his air;
He falters at the vacant door
And joins the phantoms there.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net