The speaker is a dead woman, lying in a churchyard, addressing the man she loves. She wishes he had a farm of his own in the hills and didn’t have to work for hire. It isn’t because she can be there with him—she is cold in the grave and cannot sit by his fire. But if he had that home, she would walk its paths on some nights, maybe look into his room, and then she could always see the lights of his house from the rail of her tomb. Her longing is tender and eerie, full of love that outlasts death but also the ache of separation. The mood is haunting without being frightening: a gentle ghost who wants only a steady home to visit and the comfort of watching her beloved’s lights burn.
The Ghost — Summary
I WISH you'd a farm on the hills, my Dear, And need not work for hire. For though I'm cold in the churchyard here. And cannot sit by your fire,
I'd walk the paths of your house, some nights, And haply look into your room: Then I'd always see my Love's home-lights When I stood on the rail of my tomb.