Poems (Stoddard)/The House by the Sea
THE HOUSE BY THE SEA.
TO-NIGHT I do the bidding of a ghost, A ghost that knows my misery;In the lone dark I hear his wailing boast, "Now shalt thou speak with me."
Must I go back where all is desolate, Where reigns the terror of a curse,To knock, a beggar, at my father's gate, That closed upon a hearse?
The old stone pier has crumbled in the sea; The tide flows through the garden wall;Where grew the lily, and where hummed the bee, Black seaweeds rise and fall.
I see the empty nests beneath the eaves; No bird is near; the vines have died;The orchard trees have lost the joy of leaves, The oaks their lordly pride.
Of what avail to set ajar the door Through which, when ruin fell, I fled?If on the threshold I should stand once more, Shall I behold the dead?
Shall I behold, as on that fatal night, My mother from the window start,When she was blasted by the evil sight,— The shame that broke her heart?
The yellow grass grows on my sister's grave; Her room is dark—she is not there;I feel the rain, and hear the wild wind rave— My tears, and my despair.
A white-haired man is singing a sad song Amid the ashes on the hearth;"Ashes to ashes, I have moaned so long I am alone on earth."
No more! no more! I cannot bear this pain; Shut the foul annals of my race;Accursed the hand that opens them again, My dowry of disgrace.
And so, farewell, thou bitter, bitter ghost! When morning comes the shadows fly;Before we part, I give this merry toast,— The dead that do not die!