THE STRANGE HOUSE
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I HEAR the piano playing—Just as a ghost might play.”“—O, but what are you saying?There’s no piano to-day;Their old one was sold and broken;Years past it went amiss.”“—I heard it, or shouldn’t have spoken:A strange house, this! “I catch some undertone here,From some one out of sight.”“—Impossible; we are alone here,And shall be through the night.”“—The parlour-door—what stirred it?”“—No one: no soul’s in range.”“—But, anyhow, I heard it,And it seems strange! “Seek my own room I cannot—A figure is on the stair!”“—What figure? Nay, I scan notAny one lingering there.A bough outside is waving,And that’s its shade by the moon.”“—Well, all is strange! I am cravingStrength to leave soon.” “—Ah, maybe you’ve some visionOf showings beyond our sphere;Some sight, sense, intuitionOf what once happened here?The house is old; they’ve hintedIt once held two love-thralls,And they may have imprintedTheir dreams on its walls? “They were—I think ’twas told me—Queer in their works and ways;The teller would often hold meWith weird tales of those days.Some folk can not abide here,But we—we do not careWho loved, laughed, wept, or died here,Knew joy, or despair.” “AS ’TWERE TO-NIGHT”(SONG) AS ’twere to-night, in the brief spaceOf a far eventime,My spirit rang achimeAt vision of a girl of grace;As ’twere to-night, in the brief spaceOf a far eventime. As ’twere at noontide of to-morrowI airily walked and talked,And wondered as I walkedWhat it could mean, this soar from sorrow;As ’twere at noontide of to-morrowI airily walked and talked. As ’twere at waning of this weekBroke a new life on me;Trancings of bliss to beIn some dim dear land soon to seek;As ’twere at waning of this weekBroke a new life on me!
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