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STEPS OF GHOSTS.
 


229

STEPS OF GHOSTS.

In the olden mansion lying,
That knew me long ago,
I see the far white river
Shivering in the snow.
The moon, so close by the window,
Freezes in the trees with her light—
A glitter of motionless silence,
All the ice-lit branches bright!
Jarring the drowsy stillness,
There are footsteps on the stair,
Lifting their ghostly echoes
From the chambers every-where!
How near they startle the stairway!
I feel the opening door!
Now, far and fainter, and dying,
They echo in me no more!

230

In a moment the door will open!
How near they grow again!—
They have left the ghost of their silence
Walking within my brain!
Upon the haunted stairway
I have heard them oft before;
In this olden house, returning,
They haunt me evermore.
Strangers have never heard them—
I know they all are mine,
Rising, O heart, and dying
On that haunted stair of thine.
To me forever returning
Myself forever fled,
Startling the stair forever and ever,
I hear my footsteps dead!
O life, make braver thy beating!
The terror on the stair
Is the long, long dread procession
That follows thee every-where!