5. The flower grew wild and rankly as the weed, Roses with thistles struggled for espial, And vagrant plants of parasitic breed But gay or gloomy, steadfast or infirm, No heart was there to heed the hour's duration; 6. The wren had built within the porch, she found The rabbit wild and gray, that flitted through The shrubby clumps, and frisked, and sat, and vanished, But leisurely and bold, as if he knew His enemy was banished. 7. The wary crow-the pheasant from the woods- The coot was swimming in the reedy pond 8. The moping heron, motionlèss and stiff, To guard the water-lily. No sound was heard, except, from far away, The ringing of the whitwall's shrilly laughter, Or, now and then, the chatter of the jay, 9. But Echo never mocked the human tongue; Some weighty crime, that Heaven could not pardon, A secret curse on that old building hung, And its deserted garden. The beds were all untouched by hand or tool; No footstep marked the damp and mossy gravel, Each walk as green as is the mantled pool, For want of human travel. The vine unpruned, and the neglected peach, Drooped from the wall with which they used to grapple; And on the cankered tree, in easy reach, Rotted the golden apple. 10. But awfully the truant shunned the ground For over all there hung a cloud of fear, A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, 11. The pear and quince lay squandered on the grass; Of fruits, and weeds, and flowers! The mărigōld amidst the nettles blew, The gourd embraced the rose-bush in its ramble, The thistle and the stock together grew, The hollyhock and bramble. 12. The bear-bine with the lilac interlaced, The sturdy burdock choked its slender neighbor, The spicy pink. All tokens were effaced Of human care and labor. The very yew Formality had trained To such a rigid pyramidal stature, For want of trimming had almost regained 13. The Fountain was a-dry-neglect and time The statue, fallen from its marble base, Its name and rites forgotten. 14. On every side the aspect was the same, For over all there hung a cloud of fear, III. 83. THE HAUNTED HOUSE. PART SECOND. H, very gloomy is the House of Woe, Where tears are falling while the bell is knelling, With all the dark solemnities which show Oh That Death is in the dwelling! very, very dreary is the room Where Love, domestic Love, no longer nestles, 2. But house of woe, and hearse, and sable pall, The centiped ǎlong the threshold crept, 3. The keyhole lodged the earwig and her brood, In undisturbed procession. As undisturbed as the prehensile cell |