 | The Triangular Society |  |
HAUNTED HOUSES.
All houses wherein rats and mice abide
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The cunning thieves upon their errands glide,
Making a hasty scratching on the floors.
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The cunning thieves upon their errands glide,
Making a hasty scratching on the floors.
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We meet them in the chamber, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go;
Their twinkling eyes are peering everywhere,
As hurriedly they scamper to and fro.
Along the passages they come and go;
Their twinkling eyes are peering everywhere,
As hurriedly they scamper to and fro.
The house has far more inmates than the hosts
Invited; cellar, pantry, kitchen, hall,
Are thronged with nibblers, which the scent of roasts
Has tempted from their strongholds in the wall.
Invited; cellar, pantry, kitchen, hall,
Are thronged with nibblers, which the scent of roasts
Has tempted from their strongholds in the wall.
The stranger at my fireside may not see
The forms I see—and if strange sounds he hear,
Ascribes them to the wind—but unto me
The real cause is visible and clear.
The forms I see—and if strange sounds he hear,
Ascribes them to the wind—but unto me
The real cause is visible and clear.
Among the cupboard's spoons and cruet-stands,
They keep the revels which the housewife hates—
From holes unnoticed swarm in thievish bands,
And hold high jinks with teacups, bowls and plates.
They keep the revels which the housewife hates—
From holes unnoticed swarm in thievish bands,
And hold high jinks with teacups, bowls and plates.
The garret's dusty, dim circumference
Is where they most do congregate—for there
Rubbish in piles, and cobwebs dark and dense
Shut out intruders and the daylight's glare.
Is where they most do congregate—for there
Rubbish in piles, and cobwebs dark and dense
Shut out intruders and the daylight's glare.
Their little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite incentives and desires—
The struggle of the daring that destroys,
And the instinctive cowardice that fears.
By opposite incentives and desires—
The struggle of the daring that destroys,
And the instinctive cowardice that fears.
The perturbations, the perpetual jar
Of scampering rodents, bent on robbery,
Come from the attic, where by moon and star,
They, undiscovered, plan it secretly;
Of scampering rodents, bent on robbery,
Come from the attic, where by moon and star,
They, undiscovered, plan it secretly;
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And as the moon, from some dark, cavernous cloud,
Flings down to us a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling beams our fancies crowd,
Into the vague uncertainty and night—
Flings down to us a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling beams our fancies crowd,
Into the vague uncertainty and night—
So, from the attic story, there descends
A flight of stairs, connecting it with this,
And racing up and down, my long-tailed friends
Affright the night with antics numberless.
A flight of stairs, connecting it with this,
And racing up and down, my long-tailed friends
Affright the night with antics numberless.
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