One yestereve, in the waning light,
When the wind was still and the gloaming bright,
There came a breath from a far countrie,
And the ghost of a Little House called to me.
"Have you forgotten me?" "No!" I cried.
"Your hall was as narrow as this is wide,
Your roof was leaky, the rain came through
Till a ceiling fell, on my new frock too!
"In your parlour flooring a loose board hid,
And wore the carpet, you know it did!
Your kitchen was small, and the shelves were few,
While the fireplace smoked -- and you know it's true!"
The little ghost sighed: "Do you quite forget
My window boxes of mignonette?
And the sunny room where you used to sew
When a great hope came to you, long ago?
"Ah, me! How you used to watch the door
Where a latch-key turned on the stroke of four.
And you made the tea, and you poured it out
From an old brown pot with a broken spout
"Now, times have changed. And your footman waits
With the silver urn, and the fluted plates.
But the little blind Love with the wings, has flown,
Who used to sit by your warm hearth- stone."
The little ghost paused. Then "Away!" I said.
"Back to your place with the quiet dead.
Back to your place, lest my servants see,
That the ghost of a Little House calls to me."