Various - The Haunted Hour
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9 THE HAUNTED HOUR
_An Anthology_
COMPILED BY
MARGARET WIDDEMER
NEW YORK
HARCOURT, BRACE AND HOWE
1920
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY
HARCOURT, BRACE AND HOWE, INC.
THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY
RAHWAY, N.J.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE
For the use of the copyrighted material included in this volume
permission has been secured either from the author or his authorized
publishers. All rights in these poems are reserved by the holders of the
copyright, or the authorized publishers, as named below:
To George H. Doran Co. for the poems of Joyce Kilmer and May Byron.
To Doubleday, Page & Co. and Rudyard Kipling for Mr. Kipling's "The
Looking-Glass."
To E.P. Dutton & Co. for Helen Gray Cone's "Blockhouse on the Hill,"
from her _A Chant of Love for England_.
To Harper & Bros. for the poems of Arthur Guiterman, Don Marquis, and
Don C. Seitz.
To Henry Holt and Co. for the poems of Francis Carlin, Walter De La
Mare, Louis Untermeyer, and Margaret Widdemer.
To Houghton Mifflin Co. for Anna Hempstead Branch's "Such Are the Souls
in Purgatory" from _Heart of the Road_, the poems of Henry W.
Longfellow, Nathan Haskell Dole's "Russian Fantasy," Amy Lowell's
"Haunted" from _Pictures of the Floating World_, May Kendall's "A
Legend."
To Mitchell Kennerley for the poems of Theodosia Garrison, Dora Sigerson
Shorter, and Edna St. Vincent Millay.
To John Lane Co. for the poems of Rosamund Marriott Watson, Winifred
Letts, A.E. Housman's "True Lover," Nora Hopper's "Far Away Country,"
Marjorie Pickthall's "Mary Shepherdess."
To the Macmillan Co. for W.B. Yeats' "Folk o' the Air," and John
Masefield's "Cape Horn Gospel."
To Thomas Bird Mosher for Edith M. Thomas's "The Passer-By" from _Flower
from the Ashes_.
To Frederick A. Stokes Co. for "The Highwayman," by Alfred Noyes.
To Charles Scribner's Sons for Josephine Daskam Bacon's "Little Dead
Child."
To Rose de Vaux Royer for Madison Cawein's "Ghosts."
To the _Saturday Evening Post_ for Grantland Rice's "Ghosts of the
Argonne."
I have to thank the following authors for express personal permission:
Josephine Daskam Bacon, Anna Hempstead Branch, Francis Carlin, Helen
Gray Cone, Nathan Haskell Dole, Theodosia Garrison, Arthur Guiterman,
Minna Irving, Aline Kilmer, Katherine Tynan Hinkson, Winifred Letts, Amy
Lowell, Don Marquis, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Ruth Comfort Mitchell,
Marjorie L.C. Pickthall, Lizette Woodworth Reese, Grantland Rice, Edwin
Arlington Robinson, Robert Haven Schauffler, Don C. Seitz, Clement
Shorter (for Dora Sigerson Shorter), Edith M. Thomas, Louis Untermeyer,
and William Butler Yeats.
PREFACE
This does not attempt to be an inclusive anthology. The ghostly poetry
of the late war alone would have made a book as large as this; and an
inclusive scheme would have ended as a six-volume Encyclopedia of
Ghostly Verse. I hope that this may be called for some day. The present
book has been held to the conventional limits of the type of small
anthology which may be read without weariness (I hope) by the exclusion
not only of many long and dreary ghost-poems, but many others which it
was very hard to leave out.
I have not considered as ghost-poems anything but poems which related to
the return of spirits to earth. Thus "The Blessed Damozel," a poem of
spirits in heaven, "La Belle Dame Sans Merci," whose heroine may be a
fairy or witch, and whose ghosts are presented in dream only, do not
belong in this classification; nor do such poems as Mathilde Blind's
lovely sonnet, "The Dead Are Ever with Us," class as ghost-poems; for in
these the dead are living in ourselves in a half-metaphorical sense. If
a poem would be a ghost-story, in short, I have considered it a
ghost-poem, not otherwise.
In this connection I wish to thank Mabel Cleland Ludlum for her
unwearied and intelligent assistance with the selection and compilation
of the book; and Aline Kilmer for help in its revision and arrangement.
Margaret Widdemer.
CONTENTS
PAGE
The Far Away Country _Nora Hopper Chesson_ xiv
"THE NICHT ATWEEN THE SANCTS AN' SOULS"
All-Souls _Katherine Tynan_ 3
All-Saints' Eve _Lizette Woodworth Reese_ 3
A Dream _William Allingham_ 4
The Neighbors _Theodosia Garrison_ 6
A Ballad of Hallowe'en _Theodosia Garrison_ 7
The Forgotten Soul _Margaret Widdemer_ 8
All-Souls' Night _Dora Sigerson Shorter_ 9
Janet's Tryst _George Macdonald_ 10
Hallows' E'en _Winifred M. Letts_ 13
On Kingston Bridge _Ellen M.H. Cortissoz_ 14
All-Souls' Night _Louisa Humphreys_ 16
"ALL THE LITTLE SIGHING SOULS"
Mary Shepherdess _Marjorie L.C. Pickthall_ 21
The Little Ghost _Katherine Tynan_ 22
Two Brothers _Theodosia Garrison_ 24
The Little Dead Child _Josephine Daskam Bacon_ 25
The Child Alone _Rosamund Marriott Watson_ 27
The Child _Theodosia Garrison_ 28
Such Are the Souls in
Purgatory _Anna Hempstead Branch_ 29
The Open Door _Rosamund Marriott Watson_ 32
My Laddie's Hounds _Marguerite Elizabeth Easter_ 33
The Old House _Katherine Tynan_ 35
SHADOWY HEROES
Ballad of the Buried Sword _Ernest Rhys_ 39
The Looking-Glass _Rudyard Kipling_ 40
Drake's Drum _Henry Newbolt_ 41
The Grey Ghost _Francis Carlin_ 42
Ballad of Douglas Bridge _Francis Carlin_ 43
The Indian Burying Ground _Philip Freneau_ 44
"RANK ON RANK OF GHOSTLY SOLDIERS"
The Song of Soldiers _Walter De La Mare_ 49
By the Blockhouse on the
Hill _Helen Gray Cone_ 49
Night at Gettysburg _Don C. Seitz_ 51
The Riders _Katherine Tynan_ 52
The White Comrade _Robert Haven Schauffler_ 53
Ghosts of the Argonne _Grantland Rice_ 56
November Eleventh _Ruth Comfort Mitchell_ 57
SEA GHOSTS
The Flying Dutchman _Charles Godfrey Leland_ 61
The Phantom Ship _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 61
The Phantom Light of the
Baie des Chaleurs _Arthur Wentworth Hamilton Eaton_ 63
The Sands of Dee _Charles Kingsley_ 65
The Lake of the Dismal
Swamp _Thomas Moore_ 66
The Flying Dutchman of the
Tappan Zee _Arthur Guiterman_ 68
The White Ships and the
Red _Joyce Kilmer_ 70
Featherstone's Doom _Robert Stephen Hawker_ 73
Sea-Ghosts _May Byron_ 74
Fog Wraiths _Mildred Howells_ 76
CHEERFUL SPIRITS
Cape Horn Gospel _John Masefield_ 79
Legend of Hamilton Tighe _Richard Harris Barham_ 80
The Supper Superstition _Thomas Hood_ 84
The Ingoldsby Penance _Richard Harris Barham_ 87
Pompey's Ghost _Thomas Hood_ 103
The Ghost _Thomas Hood_ 107
Mary's Ghost _Thomas Hood_ 109
The Superstitious Ghost _Arthur Guiterman_ 111
Dave Lilly _Joyce Kilmer_ 112
Martin _Joyce Kilmer_ 114
HAUNTED PLACES
The Listeners _Walter De La Mare_ 119
Haunted Houses _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 120
The Beleaguered City _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 122
A Newport Romance _Bret Harte_ 124
A Legend _May Kendall_ 126
A Midnight Visitor _Elizabeth Akers Allen_ 128
Haunted _Amy Lowell_ 130
The Little Green Orchard _Walter De La Mare_ 131
Fireflies _Louise Driscoll_ 132
The Little Ghost _Edna St. Vincent Millay_ 133
Haunted _Louis Untermeyer_ 134
Ghosts _Madison Cawein_ 135
The Three Ghosts _Theodosia Garrison_ 137
"YOU KNOW THE OLD, WHILE I KNOW THE NEW"
After Death _Christina Rossetti_ 141
The Passer-By _Edith M. Thomas_ 141
At Home _Christina Rossetti_ 142
The Return _Minna Irving_ 143
The Room's Width _Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward_ 144
Haunted _Don Marquis_ 144
"MY LOVE THAT WAS SO TRUE"
One Out-of-Doors _Sarah Piatt_ 149
Sailing Beyond Seas _Jean Ingelow_ 149
Betrayal _Aline Kilmer_ 151
The True Lover _A.E. Housman_ 152
Haunted _G.B. Stuart_ 153
The White Moth _Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch_ 154
The Ghost _Walter De La Mare_ 155
Luke Havergal _Edwin Arlington Robinson_ 156
The Highwayman _Alfred Noyes_ 157
The Blue Closet _William Morris_ 163
The Ghost's Petition _Christina Georgina Rossetti_ 166
He and She _Sir Edwin Arnold_ 169
SHAPES OF DOOM
The Dead Coach _Katherine Tynan_ 175
Deid Folks' Ferry _Rosamund Marriott Watson_ 176
Keith of Ravelston _Sydney Dobell_ 178
The Fetch _Dora Sigerson Shorter_ 179
The Banshee _Dora Sigerson Shorter_ 183
The Seven Whistlers _Alice E. Gillington_ 185
The Victor _Theodosia Garrison_ 187
Mawgan of Melhuach _Robert Stephen Hawker_ 188
The Mother's Ghost _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 189
The Dead Mother _Robert Buchanan_ 192
LEGENDS AND BALLADS OF THE DEAD
The Folk of the Air _William Butler Yeats_ 199
The Reconciliation _A. Margaret Ramsay_ 201
The Priest's Brother _Dora Sigerson Shorter_ 203
The Ballad of Judas
Iscariot _Robert Buchanan_ 205
The Eve of St. John _Walter Scott_ 212
Fair Margaret's Misfortunes _Anon._ 220
Sweet William's Ghost _Anon._ 222
Clerk Saunders _Anon._ 224
The Wife of Usher's Well _Anon._ 229
A Lyke-Wake Dirge _Anon._ 231
THE HAUNTED HOUR
THE FAR AWAY COUNTRY
NORA HOPPER CHESSON
_Far away's the country where I desire to go,_
_Far away's the country where the blue roses grow,_
_Far away's the country and very far away,_
_And who would travel thither must go 'twixt night and day._
_Far away's the country, and the seas are wild_
_That you must voyage over, grown man or chrisom child,_
_O'er leagues of land and water a weary way you'll go_
_Before you'll find the country where the blue roses grow._
_But O, and O, the roses are very strange and fair,_
_You'd travel far to see them, and one might die to wear,_
_Yet, far away's the country, and perilous the sea,_
_And some may think far fairer the red rose on her tree._
_Far away's the country, and strange the way to fare,_
_Far away's the country--O would that I were there!_
_It's on and on past Whinny Muir and over Brig o' Dread._
_And you shall pluck blue roses the day that you are dead._
"THE NICHT ATWEEN THE SANCTS AN' SOULS"
ALL-SOULS: KATHERINE TYNAN
The door of Heaven is on the latch
To-night, and many a one is fain
To go home for one night's watch
With his love again.
Oh, where the father and mother sit
There's a drift of dead leaves at the door
Like pitter-patter of little feet
That come no more.
Their thoughts are in the night and cold,
Their tears are heavier than the clay,
But who is this at the threshold
So young and gay?
They are come from the land o' the young,
They have forgotten how to weep;
Words of comfort on the tongue,
And a kiss to keep.
They sit down and they stay awhile,
Kisses and comfort none shall lack;
At morn they steal forth with a smile
And a long look back.
ALL-SAINTS' EVE: LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE
Oh, when the ghosts go by,
Under the empty trees,
Here in my house I sit and cry,
My head upon my knees!
Innumerable, white,
Like mist they fill the square;
The bolt is drawn, the latch made tight,
The shutter barred there.
There walks one small and glad,
New to the churchyard clod;
My little lad, my little lad,
A single year with God!
I sit and hide my head
Until they all are past,
Under the empty trees the dead
That go full soft and fast.
Up to my chamber dim,
Back to my bed I plod;
Oh, would I were a ghost with him,
And faring back to God!
A DREAM: WILLIAM ALLINGHAM
I heard the dogs howl in the moonlight night;
I went to the window to see the sight;
All the dead that ever I knew
Going one by one and two by two.
On they pass'd and on they pass'd;
Townsfellows all, from first to last;
Born in the moonlight of the lane,
Quench'd in the heavy shadow again.
Schoolmates, marching as when they play'd
At soldiers once--but now more staid;
Those were the strangest sight to me
Who were drown'd, I knew, in the open sea.
Straight and handsome folk, bent and weak, too;
Some that I loved, and gasp'd to speak to;
Some but a day in their churchyard bed;
Some that I had not known were dead.
A long long crowd--where each seem'd lonely,
Yet of them all there was one, one only,
Raised a head or looked my way;
She linger'd a moment--she might not stay.
How long since I saw that fair pale face!
Ah! Mother dear! might I only place
My head on thy breast, a moment to rest,
While thy hand on my tearful cheek were press'd!
On, on, a moving bridge they made
Across the moon-stream, from shade to shade,
Young and old, women and men;
Many long-forgot, but remember'd then,
And first there came a bitter laughter;
A sound of tears a moment after,
And then a music so lofty and gay,
That every morning, day by day,
I strive to recall it if I may.
THE NEIGHBORS: THEODOSIA GARRISON
_At first cock-crow_
_The ghosts must go_
_Back to their quiet graves below._
Against the distant striking of the clock
I heard the crowing cock,
And I arose and threw the window wide;
Long, long before the setting of the moon,
And yet I knew they must be passing soon--
My neighbors who had died--
Back to their narrow green-roofed homes that wait
Beyond the churchyard gate.
I leaned far out and waited--all the world
Was like a thing impearled,
Mysterious and beautiful and still:
The crooked road seemed one the moon might lay,
Our little village slept in Quaker gray,
And gray and tall the poplars on the hill;
And then far off I heard the cock--and then
My neighbors passed again.
At first it seemed a white cloud, nothing more,
Slow drifting by my door,
Or gardened lilies swaying in the wind;
Then suddenly each separate face I knew,
The tender lovers drifting two and two,
Old, peaceful folk long since passed out of mind,
And little children--one whose hand held still
An earth-grown daffodil.
And here I saw one pausing for a space
To lift a wistful face
Up to a certain window where there dreamed
A little brood left motherless; and there
One turned to where the unploughed fields lay bare;
And others lingering passed--but one there seemed
So over glad to haste, she scarce could wait
To reach the churchyard gate!
The farrier's little maid who loved too well
And died--I may not tell
How glad she seemed. My neighbors, young and old,
With backward glances lingered as they went;
Only upon one face was all content,
A sorrow comforted--a peace untold.
I watched them through the swinging gate--the dawn
Stayed till the last had gone.
A BALLAD OF HALLOWE'EN: THEODOSIA GARRISON
_All night the wild wind on the heath_
_Whistled its song of vague alarms;_
_All night in some mad dance of death_
_The poplars tossed their naked arms._
Mignon Isa hath left her bed
And bared her shoulders to the blast;
The long procession of the dead
Stared at her as it passed.
"Oh, there, methinks, my mother smiled,
And there my father walks forlorn,
And there the little nameless child
That was the parish scorn.
"And there my olden comrades move,
And there my sister smiles apart,
But nowhere is the fair, false love
That bent and broke my heart.
"Oh, false in life, oh, false in death,
Wherever thy mad spirit be,
Could it not come this night," she saith,
"And keep tryst with me?"
Mignon Isa has turned alone,
Bitter the pain and long the years;
The moonlight on the old gravestone
Was warmer than her tears.
_All night the wild wind on the heath_
_Whistled its song of vague alarms;_
_All night in some mad dance of death_
_The poplars tossed their naked arms._
THE FORGOTTEN SOUL: MARGARET WIDDEMER
'Twas I that cried against the pane on All Souls' Night
(O pulse of my heart's life, how could you never hear?)
You filled the room I knew with yellow candlelight
And cheered the lass beside you when she cried in fear.
'Twas I that went beside you in the gray wood-mist
(O core of my heart's heart, how could you never know?)
You only frowned and shuddered as you bent and kissed
The lass hard by you, handfast, as I used to go.
'Twas I that stood to greet you on the churchyard pave
(O fire of my heart's grief, how could you never see?)
You smiled in careless dreaming as you crossed my grave
And hummed a little love-song where they buried me!
ALL-SOULS' NIGHT: DORA SIGERSON
O mother, mother, I swept the hearth, I set his chair
and the white board spread,
I prayed for his coming to our kind Lady when Death's
doors would let out the dead;
A strange wind rattled the window-pane, and down the
lane a dog howled on,
I called his name and the candle flame burnt dim, pressed
a hand the door-latch upon.
Deelish! Deelish! my woe forever that I could not sever
coward flesh from fear.
I called his name and the pale ghost came; but I was
afraid to meet my dear.
O mother, mother, in tears I checked the sad hours past
of the year that's o'er,
Till by God's grace I might see his face and hear the
sound of his voice once more;
The chair I set from the cold and wet, he took when he
came from unknown skies
Of the land of the dead, on my bent brown head I felt
the reproach of his saddened eyes;
I closed my lids on my heart's desire, crouched by the fire,
my voice was dumb.
At my clean-swept hearth he had no mirth, and at my
table he broke no crumb.
Deelish! Deelish! my woe forever that I could not sever
coward flesh from fear.
His chair put aside when the young cock cried, and I
was afraid to meet my dear.
JANET'S TRYST: GEORGE MACDONALD
"Sweep up the flure, Janet,
Put on anither peat.
It's a lown and starry nicht, Janet,
And neither cold nor weet.
And it's open hoose we keep the nicht
For ony that may be oot;
It's the nicht atween the Sancts an' Souls
Whan the bodiless gang aboot.
Set the chairs back to the wall, Janet,
Mak' ready for quaiet fowk,
Hae a' thing as clean as a windin'-sheet--
They comena ilka ook.
There's a spale upo' the flure, Janet,
And there's a rowan berry.
Sweep them into the fire, Janet,--
They'll be welcomer than merry.
Syne set open the door, Janet,--
Wide open for wha kens wha:
As ye come to your bed, Janet,
Set it open to the wa'."
She set the chairs back to the wa',
But ane made of the birk,
She swept the flure, but left ane spale,
A long spale o' the aik.
The nicht was lown, and the stars sat still
A-glintin' doon the sky:
And the sauls crept oot o' their mooly graves,
A' dank wi' lyin' by.
When midnight came the mither rase--
She wad gae see an' hear.
Back she cam' wi' a glowrin' face,
An' sloomin' wi' verra fear.
"There's ane o' them sittin' afore the fire!
Janet, gae na to see;
Ye left a chair afore the fire,
Whaur I tauld ye nae chair sud be."
Janet she smiled in her mither's face:
She had brunt the roddin reid:
And she left aneath the birken chair
The spale frae a coffin lid.
She rase and she gaed but the hoose,
Aye steekin' door and door,
Three hours gaed by ere her mother heard
Her fit upo' the flure.
But whan the grey cock crew she heard
The soun' o' shoeless feet,
Whan the red cock crew she heard the door
An' a sough o' wind an' weet.
An' Janet cam' back wi' a wan face,
But never a word said she;
No man ever heard her voice lood oot--
It cam' like frae ower the sea.
And no man ever heard her lauch,
Nor yet say alas nor wae;
But a smile aye glimmert on her wan face
Like the moonlicht on the sea.
And ilka nicht 'twixt the Sancts an' Souls
Wide open she set the door;
And she mendit the fire, and she left ae chair
And that spale upo' the flure.
And at midnicht she gaed but the hoose,
Aye steekin' door and door.
Whan the red cock crew she cam' ben the hoose,
Aye wanner than before.
Wanner her face and sweeter her smile,
Till the seventh All-Souls Eve
Her mither she heard the shoeless feet,
Says "She's comin', I believe."
But she camna ben, an' her mither lay;
For fear she cudna stan',
But up she rase an' ben she gaed
Whan the gowden cock hed crawn.
And Janet sat upo' the chair,
White as the day did daw,
Her smile was as sunlight left on the sea
Whan the sun has gane awa.
HALLOWS' E'EN: WINIFRED M. LETTS
The girls are laughing with the boys, and gaming by the fire,
They're wishful, every one of them, to see her heart's desire,
Twas Thesie cut the barnbrack and found the ring inside,
Before next Hallows' E'en has dawned herself will be a bride.
But little Mollie stands alone outside the cabin door,
And breaks her heart for one the waves threw dead upon the shore.
Twas Katie's nut lepped from the hearth, and left poor Pat's alone
But Ellen's stayed by Christy Byrne's upon the wide hearthstone.
An' all the while the childher bobbed for apples set afloat,
The old men smoked their pipes and talked about the foundered boat,
But Mollie walked upon the cliff, and never feared the rain;
She called the name of one she loved and bid him come again.
Young Peter pulled the cabbage-stump to win a wealthy wife,
Rosanna threw the apple-peel to know who'd share her life;
And Lizzie had a looking-glass she'd hid in some dark place
To try if there, foreninst her own, she'd see her comrade's face.
But Mollie walked along the quay where Terry's feet had trod,
And sobbed her grief out in the night, with no one near but God.
She heard the laughter from the house, she heard the fiddle played;
She called her dead love to her side--why should she be afraid?
She took his cold hands in her own, she had no thought of dread,
And not a star looked out to watch the living kiss the dead.
The lads are gaming with the girls, and laughing by the fire.
But Mollie in the cold, dark night, has found her heart's desire.
ON KINGSTON BRIDGE: ELLEN M.H. CORTISSOZ
(On All Souls' Night the dead walk on Kingston
Bridge.--_Old Legend._)
On Kingston Bridge the starlight shone
Through hurrying mists in shrouded glow;
The boding night-wind made its moan,
The mighty river crept below.
'Twas All Souls' Night, and to and fro
The quick and dead together walked,
The quick and dead together talked,
On Kingston Bridge.
Two met who had not met for years;
Once was their hate too deep for fears:
One drew his rapier as he came,
Upleapt his anger like a flame.
With clash of mail he faced his foe,
And bade him stand and meet him so.
He felt a graveyard wind go by
Cold, cold as was his enemy.
A stony horror held him fast.
The Dead looked with a ghastly stare,
And sighed "I know thee not," and passed
Like to the mist, and left him there
On Kingston Bridge.
'Twas All Souls' Night, and to and fro
The quick and dead together walked,
The quick and dead together talked,
On Kingston Bridge.
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