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A creepy poem by LMM

Posted: Sat May 10, 2008 4:54 pm
by Wild Roses
I guess this is the appropriate place to put it. I haven't read any of her ghost stories yet, but if they are creepy as this poem is, I know I have some excellent reading to look forward to.


Love, is it dawn that creeps in so grey,
Like the timid ghost,
All shrinking and pale, of the sweet dead night,
Lived and enjoyed to the uttermost
Of its swift delight?
Love, hold me close, for I am a-cold
With the grave's own chill,
And my cheek must yet have the smear of the mould--
I have dreamed a dream as here I lay
Next to your heart--in my dreams I died
And was buried deep, deep in the yard beside
The old church on the hill.
(Oh, the dream was bitter!)


By my gravestone a rose was blowing read,
Red as my love,
The world was full of laughter of the spring--
I heard it down there in my clammy bed--
The little birds sang in the trees above,
The wind was glad with the clouds that fled
All white and pearly across the sky,
And the pretty shadows went winking by
Like tricksy madcap thoughts a-wing.

You had buried me in my wedding gown
Of silk and lace--
My hair curled blackly my neck adown,
But my lips, I knew, were white in my face,
And the flower I held in my stiff hand yet
Was slimy and wet
(Keep me from death, oh, my lover!)


Still, though the clay was heaped over me
I could see---I could see
The folks going by to the old church door;
Wives and mothers and maids went by
All fine and silken, rosy and sweet;
Some came with a tear their gaves to greet,
Bot mine only old mad Margaret came,
And she laughed to herself as she read my name
With an eerie laughter, evil and sly,
That pierced like a dart to my cold heart's core.

I saw the old maid go bitterly in
Who had known no love--
Two brothers who hated each other well--
Miser Jock with his yellow skin--
A girl with the innocent eyes of a dove--
A young wife with a bonny child--
And Lawrence, the man who never smiled
With his lips, but alawys mocked with his eyes--
O love, the grave makes far too wise,
(I know why he mocked!)


Then I felt a thrill the dank earth through
And I knew--I knew
That is came from your step on our path from the dale;
Almost my heart began to beat!
Proud of her golden ring, at your side--
That slim, white girl who lives at the mill,
Who have loved you always and loves you still,
With her hair the color of harvest wheat
And her lips as read as mine were pale.

How I hated her, so tall and fair
And shining of hair--
Love, I am so little and dark!
My heart, that had once soared up like a lark
At your glance, was as a stone in my breast;
Never once did you look my way,
Only at her you looked and kissed
With your eyes hers were of amethyst--
My eyes were sunk in cruel decay
And the worms crawled in the silk of my vest--
(Keep me from death, O my lover!)


Love, hold me close for I am a-cold!
It was only dream--as a dream it fled,
Kiss me warm from its lingering chill,
Burn from my face the taint of the dead,
Kiss my hair that is black not gold--
Am I not as sweet as the girl at the mill?
(Oh, the dream was bitter!)

Posted: Sun May 11, 2008 3:53 pm
by Wild Roses
I forget to add that LMM has a few poems written about death, but that is the only one that can be categorized as spooky. However, I do think it shows the influence Edgar Allan Poe had on her poetry (and, as the Anne books attest, she was a fan of Poe's poetry).

Posted: Wed May 14, 2008 3:37 pm
by Timothy
That was eerie and I can see the influence of Edgar Allan Poe. It also reminds me a little of some of Sylvia Plath poems that would come later.

Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2009 5:59 pm
by Jess
:shock: Definitely creepy! I am not reading that again or I'll be a-havin' nightmares for sure.

Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2009 11:47 am
by 5AvonleaGirls
Wow... that was definitely frightening. Parts of it were beautiful though...