"The Haunted House" by Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
October 29, 2022 
Made possible thanks to readers like you.

The Haunted House

Felicia Dorothea Hemans
I seem like one
Who treads alone
    Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
    And all but me departed.
            —Thomas Moore, “Oft in the Stilly Night (Scotch Air)

See’st thou yon gray gleaming hall,
Where the deep elm-shadows fall?
Voices that have left the earth
                Long ago,
Still are murmuring round its hearth,
               Soft and low:
Ever there;—yet one alone
Hath the gift to hear their tone.
Guests come thither, and depart,
Free of step, and light of heart;
Children, with sweet visions blessed,
In the haunted chambers rest;
One alone unslumbering lies
When the night hath sealed all eyes,
One quick heart and watchful ear,
Listening for those whispers clear.

See’st thou where the woodbine-flowers
O’er yon low porch hang in showers?
Startling faces of the dead,
               Pale, yet sweet,
One lone woman’s entering tread
               There still meet!
Some with young, smooth foreheads fair,
Faintly shining through bright hair;
Some with reverend locks of snow—
All, all buried long ago!
All, from under deep sea-waves,
Or the flowers of foreign graves,
Or the old and bannered aisle,
Where their high tombs gleam the while;
Rising, wandering, floating by,
Suddenly and silently,
Through their earthly home and place,
But amidst another race.

Wherefore, unto one alone,
Are those sounds and visions known?
Wherefore hath that spell of power
               Dark and dread,
On her soul, a baleful dower,
               Thus been shed?
Oh! in those deep-seeing eyes,
No strange gift of mystery lies!
She is lone where once she moved,
Fair, and happy, and beloved!
Sunny smiles were glancing round her,
Tendrils of kind hearts had bound her;
Now those silver chords are broken,
Those bright looks have left no token;
Not one trace on all the earth,
Save her memory of their mirth.
She is lone and lingering now,
Dreams have gathered o’er her brow,
Midst gay songs and children’s play,
She is dwelling far away;
Seeing what none else may see—
Haunted still her place must be!

This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on October 29, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.

Subscribe to the Poem-a-Day Podcast 

  

“The Haunted House” was first published in National Lyrics, and Songs for Music (William Curry Jun. and Company, 1834). Caroline Franklin, editor of The Longman Anthology of Gothic Verse (Pearson Longman, 2011), writes that the poem “was probably inspired by Wavertree [Town] Hall near Liverpool,” the city in which Hemans was born. Franklin continues, “The Gothic cliché of a haunted building is deployed as a metaphor to depict a psychic state. The speaker is emptied of her own identity by the absence of her family and friends. They have departed or died, leaving her and the house alike haunted by ghostly memories.”

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Felicia Dorothea Hemans, born on September 25, 1793, in Liverpool, was an English poet from the Romantic era. She is the author of many collections, including The Domestic Affections and Other Poems (T. Cadwell and W. Davies, 1812), Hymns on the Works of Nature, for the Use of Children (Hilliard, Gray, Little and Wilkins, 1827), and Records of Woman: With Other Poems (Blackwood, 1828). She died on May 16, 1835.

National Lyrics, and Songs for Music  
(William Curry Jun. and Company, 1834)

“Haunted Houses” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
read more
“A Ballad: The Lake of the Dismal Swamp” by Thomas Moore
read more

Thanks to Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, author of Cenzontle (BOA Editions, 2018), who curated Poem-a-Day for this month’s weekdays. Read or listen to a Q&A about Castillo’s curatorial approach and find out more about our guest editors for the year
Love Poem-a-Day?

Help the Academy of American Poets share daily poems by joining our monthly sustainers program or by making a one-time gift.

Become a  monthly sustainer.

Make a gift.

Copyright © 2022 The Academy of American Poets, All rights reserved.
You are receiving this email because you opted in via our website.

Our mailing address is:
The Academy of American Poets
75 Maiden Lane
St #901
New York, NY 10038

Add us to your address book


View this email in your browser

Want to change how you receive these emails?
You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list.

Older messages

"Ghazal of Oranges" by Jan-Henry Gray

Friday, October 28, 2022

On New Year's Eve, my father overfills the baskets with oranges, Facebook Twitter Instagram October 28, 2022 Support Poem-a-Day Ghazal of Oranges Jan-Henry Gray On New Year's Eve, my father

"Mister" by Oswaldo Vargas

Thursday, October 27, 2022

I don't have the papers to travel to / the White Cliffs of Dover but I imagine Facebook Twitter Instagram October 27, 2022 Support Poem-a-Day Mister Oswaldo Vargas I don't have the papers to

"On Desire" by Dujie Tahat

Wednesday, October 26, 2022

A firm hand. The shadow waves of satin. Facebook Twitter Instagram October 26, 2022 Support Poem-a-Day On Desire Dujie Tahat A firm hand. The shadow waves of satin. I am not yet flesh. He calls me baby

"One need not be a chamber—to be haunted—"

Tuesday, October 25, 2022

Support Poets.org October 25, 2022 Halloween “One Need Not be a Chamber — to be Haunted” by Emily Dickinson “The Night is Darkening Round Me” by Emily Brontë “The Sleeper” by Edgar Allan Poe “The Dirge

"Overalls" by Alan Pelaez Lopez

Tuesday, October 25, 2022

On a visit to my Amá's, she drives us to the DMV. Facebook Twitter Instagram October 25, 2022 Support Poem-a-Day Overalls Alan Pelaez Lopez On a visit to my Amá's, she drives us to the DMV. She

New and Old #87

Friday, December 9, 2022

Friday roundup and commentary ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

savourites #29

Friday, December 9, 2022

why women grow events | full cold moons | softness ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

Stuff You Should Consume - Dec 9, 2022

Friday, December 9, 2022

Welcome to this week's edition of “Stuff You Should Consume,”— a weekly compilation of interesting political content for Message Box readers. “Senator Warnock's Victory Speech” — a great

Exciting Announcement

Friday, December 9, 2022

DO Copenhagen ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

The art of imperfection

Friday, December 9, 2022

10 things worth sharing this week ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

French Onion Baked Chicken

Friday, December 9, 2022

Quick prep for busy nights. Get the Magazine Allrecipes Dinner Tonight French Onion Baked Chicken "This was easy to prepare and came out very moist." - HILARY54 Get Recipe Save Complete Your

issue #295: toasty PJ’s, a cozy playlist, thoughts on urgency

Friday, December 9, 2022

on ending the year “soft” Issue #295 - December 9, 2022 view email in browser refer a friend / subscribe A cozy dose of comfort for your inbox. A weekly newsletter with musings on and recommendations

Daily Skimm: Treat me like corduroy

Friday, December 9, 2022

Skimm'd while shopping our Amazon storefront December 9, 2022 Read in browser Daily Skimm Header Image Skimm'd while shopping our Amazon storefront “Authorizing any person to go topless” —

"Deathscape Lullaby" by Cynthia Cruz

Friday, December 9, 2022

Broken crimson / Mercedes sedan. // Cotton-wood, milk-weed. / The taste of cold metal Facebook Twitter Instagram December 9, 2022 Support Poem-a-Day with a Special Year-end Gift Deathscape Lullaby

The Appropriation of “Rest in Power”

Friday, December 9, 2022

VOLUME 4 NUMBER 46: On its face, the phrase is an obvious modification of the invocation “rest in peace” rooted in Black folks' pain and struggles of our lived experience. Co-opting the phrase is