Pass the evening of his days in it, and sometimes from his chairīy the fire he saw the door open softly and a woman's faceĪppear. Of a man who, after wandering far, returned to his early home to Invented to explain what is all so pathetic and simple. Go wailing about old houses, and foolish wild stories are
Room, and hate the unknown boy he has become. They expect him to be just as he was when they left him,Īnd they are easily bewildered, and search for him from room to What is saddest about ghosts is that they may not know theirĬhild. The coverlet, and they open the drawers to count how many little See that he sleeps peacefully, and replace his sweet arm beneath Jailers, are in the grip, and whisper, "How is it with you, myĬhild?" but always, lest a strange face should frighten him, they
They glide into the acquainted room when day and night, their No other inducement great enough to bring the departed back. Young mothers, returned to see how their children fare. “The only ghosts, I believe, who creep into this world, are dead
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