MY GHOST.[A STORY TOLD TO MY LITTLE COUSIN KATE.]
Yes, Katie, I think you are very sweet,
Now that the tangles are out of your hair,
And you sing as well as the birds you meet,
That are playing, like you, in the blossoms there.
But now you are coming to kiss me, you say:
Well, what is it for? Shall I tie your shoe,
Or loop your sleeve in a prettier way?
———Do I know about ghosts? Indeed I do.
Now that the tangles are out of your hair,
And you sing as well as the birds you meet,
That are playing, like you, in the blossoms there.
But now you are coming to kiss me, you say:
Well, what is it for? Shall I tie your shoe,
Or loop your sleeve in a prettier way?
———Do I know about ghosts? Indeed I do.
Have I seen one? Yes: last evening, you know,
We were taking a walk that you had to miss,
(I think you were naughty and cried to go,
But, surely, you'll stay at home after this!)
And, away in the twilight lonesomely
("What is the twilight?" It's—getting late!)
I was thinking of things that were sad to me—
There, hush! you know nothing about them, Kate
We were taking a walk that you had to miss,
(I think you were naughty and cried to go,
But, surely, you'll stay at home after this!)
And, away in the twilight lonesomely
("What is the twilight?" It's—getting late!)
I was thinking of things that were sad to me—
There, hush! you know nothing about them, Kate
Well, we had to go through the rocky lane,
Close to that bridge where the water roars
By a still, red house, where the dark and rain
Go in when they will at the open doors;
And the moon, that had just waked.up, looked through
The broken old windows and seemed afraid,
And the wild bats flew and the thistles grew
Where once in the roses the children played.
Close to that bridge where the water roars
By a still, red house, where the dark and rain
Go in when they will at the open doors;
And the moon, that had just waked.up, looked through
The broken old windows and seemed afraid,
And the wild bats flew and the thistles grew
Where once in the roses the children played.
Just across the road by the cherry-trees
Some fallen white stones had been lying so long,
Half hid in the grass, and under these
There were people dead. I could hear the song
Of a very sleepy dove, as I passed
The graveyard near, and the cricket that cried;
And I looked (ah! the Ghost is coming at last!)
And something was walking at my side.
Some fallen white stones had been lying so long,
Half hid in the grass, and under these
There were people dead. I could hear the song
Of a very sleepy dove, as I passed
The graveyard near, and the cricket that cried;
And I looked (ah! the Ghost is coming at last!)
And something was walking at my side.
It seemed to be wrapped in a great dark shawl,
(For the night was a little cold, you know).
It would not speak. It was black and tall;
And it walked so proudly and very slow.
Then it mocked me—everything I could do:
Now it caught at the lightning-flies like me;
Now it stopped where the elder-blossoms grew;
Now it tore the thorns from a grey bent tree.
(For the night was a little cold, you know).
It would not speak. It was black and tall;
And it walked so proudly and very slow.
Then it mocked me—everything I could do:
Now it caught at the lightning-flies like me;
Now it stopped where the elder-blossoms grew;
Now it tore the thorns from a grey bent tree.
Still it followed me under the yellow moon,
Looking back to the graveyard now and then,
Where the .winds were playing the night a tune——
But, Kate, a Ghost does n't care for men,
And your papa could n't have done it harm!
. . . Ab, dark-eyed darling, what is it you see?
There, you need n't hide in your dimpled arm—
It was only my Shadow that walked with me!
Looking back to the graveyard now and then,
Where the .winds were playing the night a tune——
But, Kate, a Ghost does n't care for men,
And your papa could n't have done it harm!
. . . Ab, dark-eyed darling, what is it you see?
There, you need n't hide in your dimpled arm—
It was only my Shadow that walked with me!