Poems (Crandall)/Haunted Valley

by Rosa Neil Crandall

Haunted Valley

In a lone and rugged valley,
  Where the wild birds hover low,
Sing and swing among the sumacs,
  Nest where thick the berries grow;

Where surrounding banks stretch skyward,
  Till the tall trees ranged on high,
With their flowing locks of emerald,
  Brush the white clouds floating by;

Mother Nature folds a cottage
  Close against a sheltering hill,
Singing songs of love and wisdom
  To the music of the rill.

Blue jays, humming birds and robins,
  All the butterflies and bees,
Love the vine above the doorway;
  Love the shrubs and apple trees.

All is peace and all is beauty,
  But a chill strikes through the heart;
As from every rock and willow,
  Every door, pale spectres start.

And on roadway, stream and pasture,
  Up the slopes where mosses grow,
Up the steeps so bare and rocky
  Fitful shadows come and go.

Fleeting shades of airy castles
  Built of fancies, frail and fair.
Castles ruined now and haunted,
  Creeping shadows every where.

Silence reigns throughout the valley,
  Noiseless turns the busy mill;
Teams climb up the winding roadway
  Without hoof beats, all is still.

There's a tiny toddler playing
  Round the gristmill's open door,
There are merry children wading,
  Picking berries from the shore;

Where the bushes dip the tail-race
  With their load so ripe and black.
Flocks of duck before them scurry
  With no sound of splash or quack.

Phantoms moving mid the shadows,
  Running to the barn to swing,
Playing up and down the race path,
  Bringing water from the spring.

Do you see them, ruined castles,
  Creeping shadows, phantoms fair
Roaming ever through the valley?
  They are there—they all are there.

Nay—nay tis a lovely valley,
  Where the rarest mosses grow.
All is peace and all is beauty,
  Where the wild birds hover low.