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Edith Nesbit - This Desirable Mansion
Work rating: Low

THE long white windows blankly stare 
    Across the sodden, tangled grass, 
Weed-covered are the pathways where 
    No footsteps ever pass; 
No whispers wake, no kisses die, 
    No laughter thrills the dwindling flowers, 
Only the night hears sigh on sigh 
    From ghosts of long-dead hours. 


None come here now to laugh or weep; 
    The spider spins on stair and hall, 
And round the windows shadows creep, 
    And loathly creatures crawl. 
Cold is the hearth; the door is fast; 
    No guest the silent threshold sees 
Save ghosts out of the happy past,-- 
    And one who is as these.
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