Explore "The Haunted Room" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ Its casements' diamond disks of glass / Stare myriad on a terrace old, / Where urns, unkempt with ragged grass, / Foam o'er with frothy cold. / The snow rounds o'er each stair of stone; / The frozen fount is hooped with pearl; / Down desolate walks, like phantoms lone, / Thin, powd'ry snow-wreaths whirl.
/ And to each rose-tree's stem that bends / With silver snow-combs, glued with frost, / It seems each summer rosebud sends / Its airy, scentless ghost. / The stiff Elizabethan pile / Chatters with cold thro' all its panes, / And rumbling down each chimney file / The mad wind shakes his reins.