F 407

One need not be a Chamber – to be Haunted –
One need not be a House – 
The Brain has Corridors – surpassing
Material Place – 

Far safer, of a midnight meeting
External Ghost 
Than it’s interior confronting –
That cooler Host – 

Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,
The Stones a’chase –
Than unarmed, one’s a’self encounter –
In lonesome Place – 

Ourself behind ourself, concealed – 
Should startle most – 
Assassin hid in our apartment – 
Be Horror’s least –

The Body – borrows a Revolver – 
He bolts the Door –
O’erlooking a superior spectre –
Or More –

ANALYSIS

F 344

‘Twas just this time, last year, I died.
I know I heard the Corn,
When I was carried by the Farms –
It had the Tassels on –

I thought how yellow it would look –
When Richard went to mill –
And then, I wanted to get out,
But something held my will.

I thought just how Red – Apples wedged
The Stubble’s joints between –
And Carts went stooping round the fields
To take the Pumpkins in –

I wondered which would miss me, least,
And when Thanksgiving, came,
If Father’d multiply the plates –
To make an even Sum –

And would it blur the Christmas glee
My stocking hang too high
For any Santa Claus to reach
The altitude of me –

But this sort, grieved myself,
And so, I thought the other way,
How just this time, some perfect year –
Themself, should come to me –

ANALYSIS