Rilès
The Strange House
“I hear the piano playing -
       &nbsp Just as a ghost might play.”
“ - O, but what are you saying?
       &nbsp There’s no piano to-day;
Their old one was sold and broken;
       &nbsp Years past it went amiss.”
“ - I heard it, or shouldn’t have spoken:
       &nbsp       &nbsp A strange house, this!

“I catch some undertone here,
       &nbsp From some one out of sight.”
“ - Impossible; we are alone here,
       &nbsp And shall be through the night.”
“ - The parlour-door - what stirred it?”
       &nbsp “ - No one: no soul’s in range.”
“ - But, anyhow, I heard it,
       &nbsp       &nbsp And it seems strange!

“Seek my own room I cannot -
       &nbsp A figure is on the stair!”
“ - What figure? Nay, I scan not
       &nbsp Any one lingering there.
A bough outside is waving,
       &nbsp And that’s its shade by the moon.”
“ - Well, all is strange! I am craving
       &nbsp       &nbsp Strength to leave soon.”
“ - Ah, maybe you’ve some vision
       &nbsp Of showings beyond our sphere;
Some sight, sense, intuition
       &nbsp Of what once happened here?
The house is old; they’ve hinted
       &nbsp It once held two love-thralls,
And they may have imprinted
       &nbsp       &nbsp Their dreams on its walls?

“They were - I think ‘twas told me -
       &nbsp Queer in their works and ways;
The teller would often hold me
       &nbsp With weird tales of those days.
Some folk can not abide here,
       &nbsp But we - we do not care
Who loved, laughed, wept, or died here,
       &nbsp       &nbsp Knew joy, or despair.”