Стихи и рассказы из категории ghosts

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Here, where men's eyes were empty and as bright As the blank windows set in glaring brick,
When the wind strengthens from the sea — and night Drops like a fog and makes the breath come thick;
By the deserted paths, the vacant halls,
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She sleeps on soft, last breaths; but no ghost
Out of the stillness of her palace wall,
Her wall of boys on boys and dooms on dooms
She dreams of golden gardens and sweet glooms,
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Some ghosts are women,neither abstract nor pale,their breasts as limp as killed fish
Not witches, but ghostswho come, moving their useless armslike forsaken servants
Not all ghosts are women,
I have seen others;fat, white-bellied me...
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When the night wind howls in the chimney cowls, and the bat in themoonlight flies,
And inky clouds, like funeral shrouds, sail over the midnight skies -When the footpads quail at the night-bird's wail, and black dogsbay the moon,
Then is...
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my life story
is littered;
with the ghosts;
of golden;
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It sifts from Leaden Sieves -
It powders all the Wood.
It fills with Alabaster Wool
The Wrinkles of the Road -
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