Poems (Ford)/The Haunted Room

THE HAUNTED ROOM.

Weary at last of roaming,
Back o'er the ocean's foam
My 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 see
The one spot in the wide world
That yet was home to me.

'T was winter, and at even
Beside the hearth-fire's blaze
I 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 fall
In 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 chair
Sat musing, and my mother,
In her old place, was there,
Her pale, calm features wearing
The glad, bright smile of joy
With which she used to welcome
And greet her wandering boy.

There, too, was little Alice,
Whose clear, blue, wondering eyes
Cast 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.