Explore "A Dead House" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When the clock hath ceased to tick / Soul-like in the gloomy hall; / When the latch no more doth click / Tongue-like in the red peach-wall; / When no more come sounds of play, / Mice nor children romping roam, / Then looks down the eye of day / On a dead house, not a home!
But when, like an old sun's ghost, / Haunts her vault the spectral moon; / When earth's margins all are lost, / Melting shapes nigh merged in swoon, / Then a sound -- hark! there again! -- / No, 'tis not a nibbling mouse! / 'Tis a ghost, unseen of men, / Walking through the bare-floored house!