Haunted!

And so, it is said, you are haunted!
My friend, we are haunted all;
And every homestead holds a ghost
That ever has held a pall.

Do you think that the empty cradle
Has never a ghost within?
Or he unused nursery table
Hears never a ghostly din?

Think you there is never a patter
Of unseen feet on the floor?
Or that never a voiceless clamour
Floats in through the garden door?

Is there ever a maid or a widow
Whose love lies under a stone,
Who holds not a ghost to her aching heart,
To cherish and call her own?

Is there ever a grey-haired beauty
Looks not in her glass to see-
No time-worn face- but the phantom form
Of the belle she was wont to be?

Was there ever a wretch abandoned,
A waif from the hour of birth,
Whose unknown mother was not to him
A ghost on the dreary earth?

Could there ever be a man or woman,
Facing through lane or street,
Who could not extend an open hand
Some shadowy friend to greet?

Could there ever be a man or a woman
So lonely and loveless through life,
Was never haunted by kith or kin,
Spirit of peace or strife?

Could there ever be a human being
With heart so narrow and small
That never a ghost could his therein,
To waken at Memory's call?

There are some with vision beclouded
Who see not all that they might;
And some, of a finer essence born,
Who see with the inner sight.

To these the past hath its phantoms,
More real than solid earth;
And to these death does not mean decay,But only another birth.

By Isabella Banks