DAYLIGHT AND MOONLIGHT. IN broad daylight, and at noon, Sailing high, but faint and white, In broad daylight, yesterday, But at length the feverish day And the night, serene and still, Fell on village, vale, and hill. Then the moon, in all her pride, Like a spirit glorified, Filled and overflowed the night With revelations of her light. HAUNTED HOUSES. ALL houses wherein men have lived and died Are haunted houses. Through the open doors The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, With feet that make no sound upon the floors. We meet them at the door-way, on the stair, A sense of something moving to and fro. There are more guests at table than the hosts Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts, The stranger at my fireside cannot see The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear; He but perceives what is; while unto me All that has been is visible and clear. We have no title-deeds to house or lands; From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands, The spirit-world around this world of sense Our little lives are kept in equipoise And the more noble instinct that aspires. These perturbations, this perpetual jar Of earthly wants and aspirations high, And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud So from the world of spirits there descends IN THE CHURCHYARD AT CAMBRIDGE. In the village churchyard she lies, Dust is in her beautiful eyes, No more she breathes, nor feels, nor stirs ; At her feet and at her head Lies a slave to attend the dead, But their dust is white as hers. Was she a lady of high degree, So much in love with vanity And foolish pomp of this world of ours? Or was it Christian charity, And lowliness and humility, The richest and rarest of all dowers? Who shall tell us? No one speaks ; Either of anger or of pride, Nor will the mystery be unmasked By those who are sleeping at her side. |