Listening to Tradition, Halloween Edition, October 31, 2008






The old house leans upon a tree

   Like some old man upon a staff;

The night wind in its ancient porch

   Sounds like a hollow laugh.


The heaven is wrapped in flying clouds,

   As grandeur cloaks itself in gray:

The starlight flitting in and out,

   Glints like a lanthorn ray.


The dark is full of whispers.  Now

   A fox-hound howls: and through the night,

Like some old ghost from out of its grave,

   The moon comes, misty white.


                             Madison Cawein


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This page contains a single entry by Ron Moffat published on October 31, 2008 7:56 AM.

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