by: Sarah N. Cleghorn (1876-1959)
- ITTLE wistful
shades, when dusk was nearing,
- Flitted in the streets of Hemlock Town.
- Saw you not, among the leafy shadows,
- Breeze-stirred pinafores of beechen brown?
- By closed shutters of the fanlight doorways
- Fond they lingered, faintly listening yet
- Only to the click of ancient needles
- And the rustle of an old Gazette;
- Vainly harkening for a sound of frolic
- In the silent Square and stately Green;
- Vaguely seeking, in our long prim gardens,
- Little boys and girls where none were seen;--
- Till what time the Poles and Finns and Syrians,
- Following the mills, came thronging down,
- And with patriarchal troops of children
- Waked the spellbound streets of Hemlock Town.
- Many little hob shoes danced and clattered,
- Earrings tinkled, and the dusky braid
- Nodded to the songs the Caesar's children
- Sang, and games that Pharaoh's daughter played.
- Then the little ghosts, in noiseless scamper
- Fleeing up the south wind, homeward hied
- To their nursery of low green pillows
- On the walled hill's morning-fronting side;
- Laying down their shadowy heads contented,
- Shed upon the drowsing wind their deep,
- Low last murmur of fulfilled desire,
- Sunk in dreams, and smiling in their sleep.
POEMS BY SARAH N. CLEGHORN
"Haunted Village" is reprinted
from Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1916. Ed. William
Stanley Braithwaite. New York: Laurence J. Gomme, 1916.