The White Cliffs by Alice Duer Miller

I saw the house with its oaken stair, And the Tudor Rose on the newel post, The paneled upper gallery where They told me you heard the family ghost-- "A gentle unhappy ghost who sighs Outside one's door on the night one dies."

-"Not," Lady Jean explained, "at all Like the ghost at my father's place, St. Kitts, That clanks and screams in the great West Hall, And frightens strangers out of their wits." I smiled politely, not thinking I Would hear one midnight that long sad sigh.