On The Darkest Night

Ghost-Raddled

“Come, surly fellow, come! A song!

“What, madmen? Sing to you?

Choose from the clouded tales of wrong

And terror I bring to you.

Of a night so torn with cries,

Honest men sleeping

Start awake with glaring eyes,

Bone chilled, flesh creeping.

Of spirits in the web-hung room

Up above the stable,

Groans, knocking in the gloom

The dancing table.

Of demons in the dry well

That cheep and mutter,

Clanging of an unseen bell,

Blood, choking the gutter.

Of lust, frightful, past belief,

Lurking unforgotten,

Unrestrainable, endless grief

From breasts long rotten.

A song? What laughter or what song

Can this house remember?

Do flowers and butterflies belong

To a blind December?