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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald (Parables)

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A DEAD HOUSE.

When the clock hath ceased to tick

  Soul-like in the gloomy hall; When the latch no more doth click

  Tongue-like in the red peach-wall; When no more come sounds of play,

  Mice nor children romping roam, Then looks down the eye of day

  On a dead house, not a home!

But when, like an old sun's ghost,

  Haunts her vault the spectral moon; When earth's margins all are lost,

  Melting shapes nigh merged in swoon, Then a sound--hark! there again!--

  No, 'tis not a nibbling mouse! 'Tis a ghost, unseen of men,

  Walking through the bare-floored house!

And with lightning on the stair

  To that silent upper room, With the thunder-shaken air

  Sudden gleaming into gloom, With a frost-wind whistling round,

  From the raging northern coasts, Then, mid sieging light and sound,

  All the house is live with ghosts!

Brother, is thy soul a cell

  Empty save of glittering motes, Where no live loves live and dwell,

  Only notions, things, and thoughts? Then thou wilt, when comes a Breath

  Tempest-shaking ridge and post, Find thyself alone with Death

  In a house where walks no ghost.




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