Country Sentiment

GHOST RADDLED.

     "Come, surly fellow, come!  A song!"
       What, madmen?  Sing to you?
     Choose from the clouded tales of wrong
       And terror I bring to you.

     Of a night so torn with cries,
       Honest men sleeping
     Start awake with glaring eyes,
       Bone-chilled, flesh creeping.

     Of spirits in the web hung room
       Up above the stable,
     Groans, knockings in the gloom,
       The dancing table.

     Of demons in the dry well
       That cheep and mutter,
     Clanging of an unseen bell,
       Blood choking the gutter.

     Of lust frightful, past belief,
       Lurking unforgotten,
     Unrestrainable endless grief
       From breasts long rotten.

     A song?  What laughter or what song
       Can this house remember?
     Do flowers and butterflies belong
       To a blind December?