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| Celtic Radio Community > Celtic Hearts > Ghosts |
| Posted by: Leelee 05-Oct-2009, 04:31 PM |
| The dead leaves skip on the porches bare, The windows clatter and whine. I sit here in the quiet house low-lit. With the clock that ticks and the books that stand. Wise and silent, on every hand. I am almost afraid; though I know the night Lets no ghosts walk in the warm lamplight. Yet ghosts there are; and they blow, they blow, Out in the wind and the scattering snow. When I open the windows and go to bed, Will the ghosts come In and stand at my head? Last night I dreamed they came back again. I heard them talking; I saw them plain. They hugged me and held me and loved me; spoke Of happy doings and friendly folk. They seemed to have journeyed a week away, But now they were ready and glad to stay. But, oh, if they came on the wind to-night Could I bear their faces, their garments white Blown in the dark around my lonely bed? Oh, could I forgive them for being dead? I am almost afraid of the wind. My shame! That I would not be glad if my dear ones came! -Fannie Stearns Davis |
| Posted by: mcnberry 05-Oct-2009, 10:43 PM |
| Halloween ~by Virginia McVeigh I remember the dread on Halloween On the old Hallow's Eve of yore As I lay in my bed On a damp Irish night And quivered to the core For gone was the play Of the careless day Spent dressed in weird attire In a witch's hat And a turnip light And stories by the fire For amid the embers of fading light I remembered I'd yet to face the night The night when the ghosts and the goblins came To call us every one by name And tormented souls Not quite in heaven Would come to show their ghastly face Through the dark hole in the fire-place And I prayed that if roaming abroad they should be These ghostly visions Would not find me |