A Spring Harvest/The House of Eld

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THE HOUSE OF ELD

Now the old winds are wild about the house, And the old ghosts cry to me from the airOf a far isle set in the western sea, And of the evening sunlight lingering there.
Ah! I am bound here, bound and fettered, The dark house crumbles, and the woods decay,I was too fain of life, that bound me here; Away, old long-loved ghosts, away, away!
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