Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE GHOST OF HARRIET SLOAN, by WILLIAM JAMES PRICE


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE GHOST OF HARRIET SLOAN, by                    
First Line: The slow hours dragged themselves along
Last Line: Twas well, perhaps, to end it so!
Subject(s): Ghosts; Murder; Supernatural


The slow hours dragged themselves along
And left no peace for William Sloan.
He who had moved among the throng,
To-night was fearful and alone.

His eyes stared blankly into space
As though they saw some phantom there.
New lines were on his haggard face,
And in his heart was black despair.

What made the curtain flutter so?
Whose fingers tapped upon the pane?
To-morrow all the world might know;
And what would be his loss or gain?

He listened at the bolted door
For footsteps in the outer hall.
Though all seemed silent as before,
Distinctly he had heard a call!

He wondered after all if she,
That in his anger he had slain,
Could be alive. If not, then he
Was cursed by phantoms of the brain.

How would he meet the final doom?
His blue lips formed a wordless prayer.
He moved into the quiet room
And viewed the body lying there.

Though pale, she seemed as lovely now
As when a year ago they wed.
Except for wounds upon her brow
He'd not believe that she was dead.

He who had loved her dearly then
Was certain that he loved her still.
What crafty demon forces men
The creatures of their love to kill?

A ghostly presence filled the place
And followed everywhere he went.
He felt a hand caress his face,
And wondered vaguely what it meant.

He shuddered. Could he face the day
And all the tragic aftermath?
There was at least an easy way
To drive the demons from his path.

He lifted from the mantel-piece
The pistol used some hours ago,
Determined that his life should cease:
'Twas well, perhaps, to end it so!





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