Thomas Hardy — The Strange House

“I hear the piano playing -        &nbsp Just as a ghost might play.” “ - O, but what are you saying?        &nbsp There’s no piano to-day; Their old one was sold and broken;        &nbsp Years past it went amiss.” “ - I heard it, or shouldn’t have spoken:        &nbsp       &nbsp A strange house, this! “I catch some undertone here,        &nbsp From some one out of sight.” “ - Impossible; we are alone here,        &nbsp And shall be through the night.” “ - The parlour-door - what stirred it?”        &nbsp “ - No one: no soul’s in range.” “ - But, anyhow, I heard it,        &nbsp       &nbsp And it seems strange! “Seek my own room I cannot -        &nbsp A figure is on the stair!” “ - What figure? Nay, I scan not        &nbsp Any one lingering there. A bough outside is waving,        &nbsp And that’s its shade by the moon.” “ - Well, all is strange! I am craving        &nbsp       &nbsp Strength to leave soon.” “ - Ah, maybe you’ve some vision        &nbsp Of showings beyond our sphere; Some sight, sense, intuition        &nbsp Of what once happened here? The house is old; they’ve hinted        &nbsp It once held two love-thralls, And they may have imprinted        &nbsp       &nbsp Their dreams on its walls? “They were - I think ‘twas told me -        &nbsp Queer in their works and ways; The teller would often hold me        &nbsp With weird tales of those days. Some folk can not abide here,        &nbsp But we - we do not care Who loved, laughed, wept, or died here,        &nbsp       &nbsp Knew joy, or despair.”