A Visit

The house had once been painted green with trimmings white, But rain and storm of many years had changed the sight. And now it stood forlorn and grey upon the hill, Uncurtained windows looking out, forboding ill. The picket fence had many palings torn away And grinned with wild demonic leer through weeds and hay. We knocked upon the blistered door in darkening gloom, And quick sharp footsteps echoed through the empty room; Serene and dressed in silk, we saw her standing near, The rustling poplars gave a sudden chill of fear; We spoke and through unanswered eerie silence knew And quickly took the narrow path all wet with dew. Once there, our hurried feet like frightened swallows flew.