THE STRANGE HOUSE

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 not

   Any one lingering there.

A bough outside is waving,

   And that's its shade by the moon."

"--Well, all is strange!  I am craving

      Strength to leave soon."

"--Ah, maybe you've some vision

   Of showings beyond our sphere;

Some sight, sense, intuition

   Of what once happened here?

The house is old; they've hinted

   It once held two love-thralls,

And they may have imprinted

      Their dreams on its walls?

"They were--I think 'twas told me--

   Queer in their works and ways;

The teller would often hold me

   With weird tales of those days.

Some folk can not abide here,

   But we--we do not care

Who loved, laughed, wept, or died here,

      Knew joy, or despair."

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