 | [Poems by Piatt in] Poems of two friends |  |
6
GHOSTS.
In the olden mansion lying
That has known me—long ago—
Far I see the long white river
Flash the lightnings of the snow.
That has known me—long ago—
Far I see the long white river
Flash the lightnings of 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!
Freezes in the trees with her light,
A glitter of motionless silence
All the ice-lit branches bright!
Working at the drowsy silence
There are footsteps on the stair,
Lifting up their ghostly echoes
From the chambers—everywhere!
There are footsteps on the stair,
Lifting up their ghostly echoes
From the chambers—everywhere!
Some arising, slow and heavy,
Toiling with the clogs of heart,
As the dreary and weary languor
Of their toil will ne'er depart.
Toiling with the clogs of heart,
As the dreary and weary languor
Of their toil will ne'er depart.
Some seem borne on childhood laughter,
As if all life's roses were red!
Children's footsteps speak their language—
But all are the feet of the dead!
As if all life's roses were red!
Children's footsteps speak their language—
But all are the feet of the dead!
7
How near they startle the stairway!
I feel the opening door!
Now far and fainter dying
They echo in me no more.
I feel the opening door!
Now far and fainter dying
They echo in me no more.
In a moment the door will open!
How near they grow again!
They have left the ghost of their silence
Walking in my brain!
How near they grow again!
They have left the ghost of their silence
Walking in my brain!
Growing up the haunted stairway
I have heard them oft before,
In this olden house forever,
Haunting me forevermore.
I have heard them oft before,
In this olden house forever,
Haunting me forevermore.
Strangers here have never heard them,
For I know they are all mine,
Rising ever, O heart! and dying
On that haunted stair of thine!
For I know they are all mine,
Rising ever, O heart! and dying
On that haunted stair of thine!
To me, forever returning,
My souls forever fled—
Startling the stair forever and ever,
I hear my footsteps dead!
My souls forever fled—
Startling the stair forever and ever,
I hear my footsteps dead!
O heart, make braver beating,
The funeral haunting the stair,
Is the long, long dead procession
That follows thee everywhere!
The funeral haunting the stair,
Is the long, long dead procession
That follows thee everywhere!
| [Poems by Piatt in] Poems of two friends | |