The Fly-bird flutters up and down, The gentle Hind and dappled Fawn The Shadow leaves a shade. A secret, vague, prophetic gloom, That mystic Tree which breathed to me A sad and solemn sound, That sometimes murmur'd overhead, And sometimes underground; Within that shady Avenue Where lofty Elms abound. THE HAUNTED HOUSE. A ROMANCE. "A jolly place," said he, "in times of old But something ails it now: the place is curst.' HART-LEAP WELL, BY WORDSWORTH. PART I. SOME dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions; Yet others of our most romantic schemes It might be only on enchanted ground; A residence for woman, child, and man, Unhinged the iron gates half open hung, No dog was at the threshold, great or small; Not one domestic feature. No human figure stirr'd, to go or come, No face look'd forth from shut or open casement; No chimney smoked—there was no sign of Home From parapet to basement. With shatter'd panes the grassy court was starr'd; The time-worn coping-stone had tumbled after; And through the ragged roof the sky shone, barr'd With naked beam and rafter. O'er all there hung a shadow and a fear; The flow'r grew wild and rankly as the weed, And vagrant plants of parasitic breed But gay or gloomy, stedfast or infirm, No heart was there to heed the hour's duration; All times and tides were lost in one long term Of stagnant desolation. The wren had built within the Porch, she found The rabbit wild and gray, that flitted through His enemy was banish'd. The wary crow, the pheasant from the woods— The coot was swimming in the reedy pond, The moping heron, motionless and stiff, No sound was heard, except, from far away, But Echo never mock'd the human tongue; The beds were all untouch'd by hand or tool; The vine unpruned, and the neglected peach, Rotted the golden apple. But awfully the truant shunn'd the ground, For over all there hung a cloud of fear, The pear and quince lay squander'd on the grass; Of fruits, and weeds, and flowers! The marigold amidst the nettles blew, The gourd embraced the rose bush in its ramble, The holly-hock and bramble. The bear-bine with the lilac interlaced, The sturdy bur-dock choked its slender neighbour, Of human care and labour. The very yew Formality had train'd |