Chapter 1

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THE HAUNTED HOUR

_An Anthology_

COMPILED BY MARGARET WIDDEMER

NEW YORK HARCOURT, BRACE AND HOWE 1920

THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY RAHWAY, N.J.

For the use of the copyrighted material included in this volume permission has been secured either from the author or his authorized publishers. All rights in these poems are reserved by the holders of the copyright, or the authorized publishers, as named below:

To George H. Doran Co. for the poems of Joyce Kilmer and May Byron.

To Doubleday, Page & Co. and Rudyard Kipling for Mr. Kipling's "The Looking-Glass."

To E.P. Dutton & Co. for Helen Gray Cone's "Blockhouse on the Hill," from her _A Chant of Love for England_.

To Harper & Bros. for the poems of Arthur Guiterman, Don Marquis, and Don C. Seitz.

To Henry Holt and Co. for the poems of Francis Carlin, Walter De La Mare, Louis Untermeyer, and Margaret Widdemer.

To Houghton Mifflin Co. for Anna Hempstead Branch's "Such Are the Souls in Purgatory" from _Heart of the Road_, the poems of Henry W. Longfellow, Nathan Haskell Dole's "Russian Fantasy," Amy Lowell's "Haunted" from _Pictures of the Floating World_, May Kendall's "A Legend."

To Mitchell Kennerley for the poems of Theodosia Garrison, Dora Sigerson Shorter, and Edna St. Vincent Millay.

To John Lane Co. for the poems of Rosamund Marriott Watson, Winifred Letts, A.E. Housman's "True Lover," Nora Hopper's "Far Away Country," Marjorie Pickthall's "Mary Shepherdess."

To the Macmillan Co. for W.B. Yeats' "Folk o' the Air," and John Masefield's "Cape Horn Gospel."

To Thomas Bird Mosher for Edith M. Thomas's "The Passer-By" from _Flower from the Ashes_.

To Frederick A. Stokes Co. for "The Highwayman," by Alfred Noyes.

To Charles Scribner's Sons for Josephine Daskam Bacon's "Little Dead Child."

To Rose de Vaux Royer for Madison Cawein's "Ghosts."

To the _Saturday Evening Post_ for Grantland Rice's "Ghosts of the Argonne."

I have to thank the following authors for express personal permission: Josephine Daskam Bacon, Anna Hempstead Branch, Francis Carlin, Helen Gray Cone, Nathan Haskell Dole, Theodosia Garrison, Arthur Guiterman, Minna Irving, Aline Kilmer, Katherine Tynan Hinkson, Winifred Letts, Amy Lowell, Don Marquis, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Ruth Comfort Mitchell, Marjorie L.C. Pickthall, Lizette Woodworth Reese, Grantland Rice, Edwin Arlington Robinson, Robert Haven Schauffler, Don C. Seitz, Clement Shorter (for Dora Sigerson Shorter), Edith M. Thomas, Louis Untermeyer, and William Butler Yeats.

PREFACE

This does not attempt to be an inclusive anthology. The ghostly poetry of the late war alone would have made a book as large as this; and an inclusive scheme would have ended as a six-volume Encyclopedia of Ghostly Verse. I hope that this may be called for some day. The present book has been held to the conventional limits of the type of small anthology which may be read without weariness (I hope) by the exclusion not only of many long and dreary ghost-poems, but many others which it was very hard to leave out.

I have not considered as ghost-poems anything but poems which related to the return of spirits to earth. Thus "The Blessed Damozel," a poem of spirits in heaven, "La Belle Dame Sans Merci," whose heroine may be a fairy or witch, and whose ghosts are presented in dream only, do not belong in this classification; nor do such poems as Mathilde Blind's lovely sonnet, "The Dead Are Ever with Us," class as ghost-poems; for in these the dead are living in ourselves in a half-metaphorical sense. If a poem would be a ghost-story, in short, I have considered it a ghost-poem, not otherwise.

In this connection I wish to thank Mabel Cleland Ludlum for her unwearied and intelligent assistance with the selection and compilation of the book; and Aline Kilmer for help in its revision and arrangement.

Margaret Widdemer.

CONTENTS

PAGE

The Far Away Country _Nora Hopper Chesson_ xiv

"THE NICHT ATWEEN THE SANCTS AN' SOULS"

All-Souls _Katherine Tynan_ 3 All-Saints' Eve _Lizette Woodworth Reese_ 3 A Dream _William Allingham_ 4 The Neighbors _Theodosia Garrison_ 6 A Ballad of Hallowe'en _Theodosia Garrison_ 7 The Forgotten Soul _Margaret Widdemer_ 8 All-Souls' Night _Dora Sigerson Shorter_ 9 Janet's Tryst _George Macdonald_ 10 Hallows' E'en _Winifred M. Letts_ 13 On Kingston Bridge _Ellen M.H. Cortissoz_ 14 All-Souls' Night _Louisa Humphreys_ 16

"ALL THE LITTLE SIGHING SOULS"

Mary Shepherdess _Marjorie L.C. Pickthall_ 21 The Little Ghost _Katherine Tynan_ 22 Two Brothers _Theodosia Garrison_ 24 The Little Dead Child _Josephine Daskam Bacon_ 25 The Child Alone _Rosamund Marriott Watson_ 27 The Child _Theodosia Garrison_ 28 Such Are the Souls in Purgatory _Anna Hempstead Branch_ 29 The Open Door _Rosamund Marriott Watson_ 32 My Laddie's Hounds _Marguerite Elizabeth Easter_ 33 The Old House _Katherine Tynan_ 35

SHADOWY HEROES

Ballad of the Buried Sword _Ernest Rhys_ 39 The Looking-Glass _Rudyard Kipling_ 40 Drake's Drum _Henry Newbolt_ 41 The Grey Ghost _Francis Carlin_ 42 Ballad of Douglas Bridge _Francis Carlin_ 43 The Indian Burying Ground _Philip Freneau_ 44

"RANK ON RANK OF GHOSTLY SOLDIERS"

The Song of Soldiers _Walter De La Mare_ 49 By the Blockhouse on the Hill _Helen Gray Cone_ 49 Night at Gettysburg _Don C. Seitz_ 51 The Riders _Katherine Tynan_ 52 The White Comrade _Robert Haven Schauffler_ 53 Ghosts of the Argonne _Grantland Rice_ 56 November Eleventh _Ruth Comfort Mitchell_ 57

SEA GHOSTS

The Flying Dutchman _Charles Godfrey Leland_ 61 The Phantom Ship _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 61 The Phantom Light of the Baie des Chaleurs _Arthur Wentworth Hamilton Eaton_ 63 The Sands of Dee _Charles Kingsley_ 65 The Lake of the Dismal Swamp _Thomas Moore_ 66 The Flying Dutchman of the Tappan Zee _Arthur Guiterman_ 68 The White Ships and the Red _Joyce Kilmer_ 70 Featherstone's Doom _Robert Stephen Hawker_ 73 Sea-Ghosts _May Byron_ 74 Fog Wraiths _Mildred Howells_ 76

CHEERFUL SPIRITS

Cape Horn Gospel _John Masefield_ 79 Legend of Hamilton Tighe _Richard Harris Barham_ 80 The Supper Superstition _Thomas Hood_ 84 The Ingoldsby Penance _Richard Harris Barham_ 87 Pompey's Ghost _Thomas Hood_ 103 The Ghost _Thomas Hood_ 107 Mary's Ghost _Thomas Hood_ 109 The Superstitious Ghost _Arthur Guiterman_ 111 Dave Lilly _Joyce Kilmer_ 112 Martin _Joyce Kilmer_ 114

HAUNTED PLACES

The Listeners _Walter De La Mare_ 119 Haunted Houses _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 120 The Beleaguered City _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 122 A Newport Romance _Bret Harte_ 124 A Legend _May Kendall_ 126 A Midnight Visitor _Elizabeth Akers Allen_ 128 Haunted _Amy Lowell_ 130 The Little Green Orchard _Walter De La Mare_ 131 Fireflies _Louise Driscoll_ 132 The Little Ghost _Edna St. Vincent Millay_ 133 Haunted _Louis Untermeyer_ 134 Ghosts _Madison Cawein_ 135 The Three Ghosts _Theodosia Garrison_ 137

"YOU KNOW THE OLD, WHILE I KNOW THE NEW"

After Death _Christina Rossetti_ 141 The Passer-By _Edith M. Thomas_ 141 At Home _Christina Rossetti_ 142 The Return _Minna Irving_ 143 The Room's Width _Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward_ 144 Haunted _Don Marquis_ 144

"MY LOVE THAT WAS SO TRUE"

One Out-of-Doors _Sarah Piatt_ 149 Sailing Beyond Seas _Jean Ingelow_ 149 Betrayal _Aline Kilmer_ 151 The True Lover _A.E. Housman_ 152 Haunted _G.B. Stuart_ 153 The White Moth _Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch_ 154 The Ghost _Walter De La Mare_ 155 Luke Havergal _Edwin Arlington Robinson_ 156 The Highwayman _Alfred Noyes_ 157 The Blue Closet _William Morris_ 163 The Ghost's Petition _Christina Georgina Rossetti_ 166 He and She _Sir Edwin Arnold_ 169

SHAPES OF DOOM

The Dead Coach _Katherine Tynan_ 175 Deid Folks' Ferry _Rosamund Marriott Watson_ 176 Keith of Ravelston _Sydney Dobell_ 178 The Fetch _Dora Sigerson Shorter_ 179 The Banshee _Dora Sigerson Shorter_ 183 The Seven Whistlers _Alice E. Gillington_ 185 The Victor _Theodosia Garrison_ 187 Mawgan of Melhuach _Robert Stephen Hawker_ 188 The Mother's Ghost _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 189 The Dead Mother _Robert Buchanan_ 192

LEGENDS AND BALLADS OF THE DEAD

The Folk of the Air _William Butler Yeats_ 199 The Reconciliation _A. Margaret Ramsay_ 201 The Priest's Brother _Dora Sigerson Shorter_ 203 The Ballad of Judas Iscariot _Robert Buchanan_ 205 The Eve of St. John _Walter Scott_ 212 Fair Margaret's Misfortunes _Anon._ 220 Sweet William's Ghost _Anon._ 222 Clerk Saunders _Anon._ 224 The Wife of Usher's Well _Anon._ 229 A Lyke-Wake Dirge _Anon._ 231

THE HAUNTED HOUR

THE FAR AWAY COUNTRY

NORA HOPPER CHESSON

_Far away's the country where I desire to go,_ _Far away's the country where the blue roses grow,_ _Far away's the country and very far away,_ _And who would travel thither must go 'twixt night and day._

_Far away's the country, and the seas are wild_ _That you must voyage over, grown man or chrisom child,_ _O'er leagues of land and water a weary way you'll go_ _Before you'll find the country where the blue roses grow._

_But O, and O, the roses are very strange and fair,_ _You'd travel far to see them, and one might die to wear,_ _Yet, far away's the country, and perilous the sea,_ _And some may think far fairer the red rose on her tree._

_Far away's the country, and strange the way to fare,_ _Far away's the country--O would that I were there!_ _It's on and on past Whinny Muir and over Brig o' Dread._ _And you shall pluck blue roses the day that you are dead._

"THE NICHT ATWEEN THE SANCTS AN' SOULS"

ALL-SOULS: KATHERINE TYNAN

The door of Heaven is on the latch To-night, and many a one is fain To go home for one night's watch With his love again.

Oh, where the father and mother sit There's a drift of dead leaves at the door Like pitter-patter of little feet That come no more.

Their thoughts are in the night and cold, Their tears are heavier than the clay, But who is this at the threshold So young and gay?

They are come from the land o' the young, They have forgotten how to weep; Words of comfort on the tongue, And a kiss to keep.

They sit down and they stay awhile, Kisses and comfort none shall lack; At morn they steal forth with a smile And a long look back.

ALL-SAINTS' EVE: LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE

Oh, when the ghosts go by, Under the empty trees, Here in my house I sit and cry, My head upon my knees!

Innumerable, white, Like mist they fill the square; The bolt is drawn, the latch made tight, The shutter barréd there.

There walks one small and glad, New to the churchyard clod; My little lad, my little lad, A single year with God!

I sit and hide my head Until they all are past, Under the empty trees the dead That go full soft and fast.

Up to my chamber dim, Back to my bed I plod; Oh, would I were a ghost with him, And faring back to God!

A DREAM: WILLIAM ALLINGHAM

I heard the dogs howl in the moonlight night; I went to the window to see the sight; All the dead that ever I knew Going one by one and two by two.

On they pass'd and on they pass'd; Townsfellows all, from first to last; Born in the moonlight of the lane, Quench'd in the heavy shadow again.

Schoolmates, marching as when they play'd At soldiers once--but now more staid; Those were the strangest sight to me Who were drown'd, I knew, in the open sea.

Straight and handsome folk, bent and weak, too; Some that I loved, and gasp'd to speak to; Some but a day in their churchyard bed; Some that I had not known were dead.

A long long crowd--where each seem'd lonely, Yet of them all there was one, one only, Raised a head or looked my way; She linger'd a moment--she might not stay.

How long since I saw that fair pale face! Ah! Mother dear! might I only place My head on thy breast, a moment to rest, While thy hand on my tearful cheek were press'd!

On, on, a moving bridge they made Across the moon-stream, from shade to shade, Young and old, women and men; Many long-forgot, but remember'd then,

And first there came a bitter laughter; A sound of tears a moment after, And then a music so lofty and gay, That every morning, day by day, I strive to recall it if I may.

THE NEIGHBORS: THEODOSIA GARRISON

_At first cock-crow_ _The ghosts must go_ _Back to their quiet graves below._

Against the distant striking of the clock I heard the crowing cock, And I arose and threw the window wide; Long, long before the setting of the moon, And yet I knew they must be passing soon-- My neighbors who had died-- Back to their narrow green-roofed homes that wait Beyond the churchyard gate.

I leaned far out and waited--all the world Was like a thing impearled, Mysterious and beautiful and still: The crooked road seemed one the moon might lay, Our little village slept in Quaker gray, And gray and tall the poplars on the hill; And then far off I heard the cock--and then My neighbors passed again.

At first it seemed a white cloud, nothing more, Slow drifting by my door, Or gardened lilies swaying in the wind; Then suddenly each separate face I knew, The tender lovers drifting two and two, Old, peaceful folk long since passed out of mind, And little children--one whose hand held still An earth-grown daffodil.

And here I saw one pausing for a space To lift a wistful face Up to a certain window where there dreamed A little brood left motherless; and there One turned to where the unploughed fields lay bare; And others lingering passed--but one there seemed So over glad to haste, she scarce could wait To reach the churchyard gate!

The farrier's little maid who loved too well And died--I may not tell How glad she seemed. My neighbors, young and old, With backward glances lingered as they went; Only upon one face was all content, A sorrow comforted--a peace untold. I watched them through the swinging gate--the dawn Stayed till the last had gone.

A BALLAD OF HALLOWE'EN: THEODOSIA GARRISON

_All night the wild wind on the heath_ _Whistled its song of vague alarms;_ _All night in some mad dance of death_ _The poplars tossed their naked arms._

Mignon Isa hath left her bed And bared her shoulders to the blast; The long procession of the dead Stared at her as it passed.

"Oh, there, methinks, my mother smiled, And there my father walks forlorn, And there the little nameless child That was the parish scorn.

"And there my olden comrades move, And there my sister smiles apart, But nowhere is the fair, false love That bent and broke my heart.

"Oh, false in life, oh, false in death, Wherever thy mad spirit be, Could it not come this night," she saith, "And keep tryst with me?"

Mignon Isa has turned alone, Bitter the pain and long the years; The moonlight on the old gravestone Was warmer than her tears.

_All night the wild wind on the heath_ _Whistled its song of vague alarms;_ _All night in some mad dance of death_ _The poplars tossed their naked arms._

THE FORGOTTEN SOUL: MARGARET WIDDEMER

'Twas I that cried against the pane on All Souls' Night (O pulse of my heart's life, how could you never hear?) You filled the room I knew with yellow candlelight And cheered the lass beside you when she cried in fear.

'Twas I that went beside you in the gray wood-mist (O core of my heart's heart, how could you never know?) You only frowned and shuddered as you bent and kissed The lass hard by you, handfast, as I used to go.

'Twas I that stood to greet you on the churchyard pave (O fire of my heart's grief, how could you never see?) You smiled in careless dreaming as you crossed my grave And hummed a little love-song where they buried me!

ALL-SOULS' NIGHT: DORA SIGERSON

O mother, mother, I swept the hearth, I set his chair and the white board spread, I prayed for his coming to our kind Lady when Death's doors would let out the dead; A strange wind rattled the window-pane, and down the lane a dog howled on, I called his name and the candle flame burnt dim, pressed a hand the door-latch upon. Deelish! Deelish! my woe forever that I could not sever coward flesh from fear. I called his name and the pale ghost came; but I was afraid to meet my dear.

O mother, mother, in tears I checked the sad hours past of the year that's o'er, Till by God's grace I might see his face and hear the sound of his voice once more; The chair I set from the cold and wet, he took when he came from unknown skies Of the land of the dead, on my bent brown head I felt the reproach of his saddened eyes; I closed my lids on my heart's desire, crouched by the fire, my voice was dumb. At my clean-swept hearth he had no mirth, and at my table he broke no crumb. Deelish! Deelish! my woe forever that I could not sever coward flesh from fear. His chair put aside when the young cock cried, and I was afraid to meet my dear.

JANET'S TRYST: GEORGE MACDONALD

"Sweep up the flure, Janet, Put on anither peat. It's a lown and starry nicht, Janet, And neither cold nor weet.

And it's open hoose we keep the nicht For ony that may be oot; It's the nicht atween the Sancts an' Souls Whan the bodiless gang aboot.

Set the chairs back to the wall, Janet, Mak' ready for quaiet fowk, Hae a' thing as clean as a windin'-sheet-- They comena ilka ook.

There's a spale upo' the flure, Janet, And there's a rowan berry. Sweep them into the fire, Janet,-- They'll be welcomer than merry.

Syne set open the door, Janet,-- Wide open for wha kens wha: As ye come to your bed, Janet, Set it open to the wa'."

She set the chairs back to the wa', But ane made of the birk, She swept the flure, but left ane spale, A long spale o' the aik.

The nicht was lown, and the stars sat still A-glintin' doon the sky: And the sauls crept oot o' their mooly graves, A' dank wi' lyin' by.

When midnight came the mither rase-- She wad gae see an' hear. Back she cam' wi' a glowrin' face, An' sloomin' wi' verra fear.

"There's ane o' them sittin' afore the fire! Janet, gae na to see; Ye left a chair afore the fire, Whaur I tauld ye nae chair sud be."

Janet she smiled in her mither's face: She had brunt the roddin reid: And she left aneath the birken chair The spale frae a coffin lid.

She rase and she gaed but the hoose, Aye steekin' door and door, Three hours gaed by ere her mother heard Her fit upo' the flure.

But whan the grey cock crew she heard The soun' o' shoeless feet, Whan the red cock crew she heard the door An' a sough o' wind an' weet.

An' Janet cam' back wi' a wan face, But never a word said she; No man ever heard her voice lood oot-- It cam' like frae ower the sea.

And no man ever heard her lauch, Nor yet say alas nor wae; But a smile aye glimmert on her wan face Like the moonlicht on the sea.

And ilka nicht 'twixt the Sancts an' Souls Wide open she set the door; And she mendit the fire, and she left ae chair And that spale upo' the flure.

And at midnicht she gaed but the hoose, Aye steekin' door and door. Whan the red cock crew she cam' ben the hoose, Aye wanner than before.

Wanner her face and sweeter her smile, Till the seventh All-Souls Eve Her mither she heard the shoeless feet, Says "She's comin', I believe."

But she camna ben, an' her mither lay; For fear she cudna stan', But up she rase an' ben she gaed Whan the gowden cock hed crawn.

And Janet sat upo' the chair, White as the day did daw, Her smile was as sunlight left on the sea Whan the sun has gane awa.

HALLOWS' E'EN: WINIFRED M. LETTS

The girls are laughing with the boys, and gaming by the fire, They're wishful, every one of them, to see her heart's desire, Twas Thesie cut the barnbrack and found the ring inside, Before next Hallows' E'en has dawned herself will be a bride. But little Mollie stands alone outside the cabin door, And breaks her heart for one the waves threw dead upon the shore.

Twas Katie's nut lepped from the hearth, and left poor Pat's alone But Ellen's stayed by Christy Byrne's upon the wide hearthstone. An' all the while the childher bobbed for apples set afloat, The old men smoked their pipes and talked about the foundered boat, But Mollie walked upon the cliff, and never feared the rain; She called the name of one she loved and bid him come again.

Young Peter pulled the cabbage-stump to win a wealthy wife, Rosanna threw the apple-peel to know who'd share her life; And Lizzie had a looking-glass she'd hid in some dark place To try if there, foreninst her own, she'd see her comrade's face. But Mollie walked along the quay where Terry's feet had trod, And sobbed her grief out in the night, with no one near but God.

She heard the laughter from the house, she heard the fiddle played; She called her dead love to her side--why should she be afraid? She took his cold hands in her own, she had no thought of dread, And not a star looked out to watch the living kiss the dead.