Ghostly Poem

I found this poem today, and its verse has prompted me to place this particular one on our blog. Why? Some time ago Steve and myself were going over the final edits to our article for the Ghost Voices Magazine in a local pub (a particularly haunted one). Steve had also written a short piece for our blog too, and he was wondered whether it would be suitable for a future article in the mag.

The title of his article was 'Trespassers' Do Spirits and Ghosts see us as trespassers on THEIR property weather in our time or theirs? Apparently there is not sense of time in the spirit world so I suppose generally speaking it could viewed as NOW time. I hope you enjoy the poem, by the way this Trespass sign is real!!!!

THE GHOST HOUSE - BY ROBERT FROST

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.