GHOST HOUSE
by Robert Frost
I DWELL in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow. 5
O’er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed. 10
I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart; 15
The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out. 20
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. 25
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. 30
"...and the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow"
...walking on a gently undulating road in Connecticut
a few summers back, I spotted purple stems. Stopped
to look, and, sure enough, there were the stems
and leaves of the raspberry. I felt Frost was there,
peeking over my shoulder, him thinking, "I made you stop,
didn't I? Me with my use of purple-stemmed and rolling
rhythm..."
That's why I like it--all
of the best of it--it makes us stop
