The haunted homes of England, How eerily they stand, While through them flit their ghosts-to wit, The Monk with the Red Hand; The Eyeless Girl-an awful spook- To stop the boldest breath, The boy that inked his copybook, And so got 'wopped' to death! Call them not shams-from haunted Glamis To haunted Woodhouselea, I mark in hosts the grisly ghosts I hear the fell Banshie! I know the spectral dog that howls Before the death of squires; In my 'Ghosts'-guide' addresses hide For Podmore and for Myers! I see the vampire climb the stairs From vaults below the church; And hark! the pirate's spectre swears! O psychical research, Canst thou not hear what meets my ear, The viewless wheels that come? The wild Banshie that wails to thee? The Drummer with his drum? O haunted homes of England, Though tenantless ye stand, Wit next hit h none content to pay the rent, Through all the shadowy land, Now, science true will find in you A sympathetic perch, And take you all, both grange and hall, For psychical research. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALIENS (TO YOU - EVERYWHERE! DEDICATED) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON REVELATION by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE INNOVATOR by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 41 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ON THE DEATH OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN by PHILIP FRENEAU |