A Boys Will | Page 5

more sure of all I
thought was true.
Ghost House
I DWELL in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer
ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the
daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.
O'er
ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the
mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood
and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well
is healed.
I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished
abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no

dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and
dart;
The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and
flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to
say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.
It is under the small, dim,
summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the
unlit place with me--
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree

Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.
They are tireless folk, but
slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,--
With
none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many
things,
As sweet companions as might be had.
My November Guest
MY Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of
autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the
withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will
not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds
are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now
with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth,
the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no
eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I
learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the
coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are
better for her praise.
Love and a Question
A STRANGER came to the door at eve,
And he spoke the
bridegroom fair.
He bore a green-white stick in his hand,
And, for
all burden, care.

He asked with the eyes more than the lips
For a
shelter for the night,
And he turned and looked at the road afar

Without a window light.
The bridegroom came forth into the porch

With, 'Let us look at the sky,
And question what of the night to be,

Stranger, you and I.'
The woodbine leaves littered the yard,
The

woodbine berries were blue,
Autumn, yes, winter was in the wind;

'Stranger, I wish I knew.'
Within, the bride in the dusk alone
Bent
over the open fire,
Her face rose-red with the glowing coal
And the
thought of the heart's desire.
The bridegroom looked at the weary
road,
Yet saw but her within,
And wished her heart in a case of gold

And pinned with a silver pin.
The bridegroom thought it little to
give
A dole of bread, a purse,
A heartfelt prayer for the poor of God,

Or for the rich a curse;
But whether or not a man was asked
To
mar the love of two
By harboring woe in the bridal house,
The
bridegroom wished he knew.
A Late Walk
WHEN I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,

Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden
path.
And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober
birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any
words.
A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered
brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling
down.
I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue

Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.
Stars
HOW countlessly they congregate
O'er our tumultuous snow,

Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
When wintry winds do blow!--

As if with keenness for our fate,
Our faltering few steps on
To
white rest, and a place of rest
Invisible at dawn,--
And yet with
neither love nor hate,

Those stars like some snow-white
Minerva's
snow-white marble eyes
Without the gift of sight.
Storm Fear
WHEN the wind works against us in the dark,
And pelts with snow

The lowest chamber window on the east,
And whispers with a sort of

stifled bark,
The beast,
'Come out! Come out!'--
It costs no
inward struggle not to go,
Ah, no!
I count our strength,
Two and a
child,
Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
How the cold creeps
as the fire dies at length,--
How drifts are piled,
Dooryard and road
ungraded,
Till even the comforting barn grows far away
And my
heart owns a doubt
Whether 'tis in us to arise with day
And save
ourselves unaided.
Wind and Window Flower
LOVERS, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a
window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window
veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the cagèd yellow bird
Hung
over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not
help but mark,
And only passed her by,
To come again at dark.

He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds
and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
But he sighed
upon the sill,
He gave