Poems (Ford)/The Haunted Room
THE HAUNTED ROOM.
Weary at last of roaming, Back o'er the ocean's foamMy footsteps slowly turning, I sought my dear old home;Alas! the well loved faces That made its walls so dear,Had lain in the green churchyard For many a long, long year.
But though no kindred welcome Would meet me at the door,Nor glad words greet my coming As in the days of yore,Though changed, almost deserted, My heart still longed to seeThe one spot in the wide world That yet was home to me.
'T was winter, and at even Beside the hearth-fire's blazeI sat and pondered sadly Upon the by-gone days; I loved that dear old-chamber— Naught there seemed new or strange,For careful hands had guarded And kept it free from change.
I saw the fitful gleaming Of the red fire-light fallIn pallid, ghostly shadows Upon the dusky wall,And busy Fancy pictured, Grouped in the gathering gloom,The forms of the departed In that old haunted room.
My father, by the fireside, In his quaint, easy chairSat musing, and my mother, In her old place, was there,Her pale, calm features wearing The glad, bright smile of joyWith which she used to welcome And greet her wandering boy.
There, too, was little Alice, Whose clear, blue, wondering eyesCast on me, when I teazed her, Sad looks of pained surprise;I seemed to hear her singing Some ballad, low and sweet, As long ago when seated Beside our mother's feet.
My loved ones were around me As in the days of yore;Long years of life had vanished— I was a boy once more;"Joy! joy!" I cried, when slowly They faded in the gloom,And left me sitting lonely In that dim, haunted room.
That gray, old ghostly chamber Will ever haunted be,Although the welcome spirits No eye but mine may see;I seek its friendly shadows When bowed in grief and pain,And find my lost and loved ones Restored to me again.