“THIS DESIRABLE MANSION”

The long white windows blankly stare

Across the sodden, tangled grass,

Weed-covered are the pathways where

No footsteps ever pass;

No whispers wake, no kisses die,

No laughter thrills the dwindling flowers,

Only the night hears sigh on sigh

From ghosts of long-dead hours.

None come here now to laugh or weep;

The spider spins on stair and hall,

And round the windows shadows creep,

And loathly creatures crawl.

Cold is the hearth; the door is fast;

No guest the silent threshold sees

Save ghosts out of the happy past,—

And one who is as these.