Thursday, July 28, 2011

Ghost House

It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me—
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.

They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,—
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.


Robert Frost



2 comments:

Autumnforest said...

Oh, shivers and enjoyment. You are giving me such a good escape for when I take respites from writing a zombie novel. I come here and I tap back into the original horrors that started me on the path to horror writing. Mood, atmosphere, tension...

Samhain Moon said...

Your mood-setting is the best.

I love the literary extracts you post here!