I to a crumpled cabin came <br />upon a hillside high, <br />And with me was a withered dame <br />As weariful as I. <br />"It used to be our home," she said; <br />"How well I remember well! <br />Oh that our happy hearth should be <br />Today an empty shell!" <br /> <br />The door was flailing in the storm <br />That deafed us with its din; <br />The roof that kept us once so warm <br />Now let the snow-drift in. <br />The floor sagged to the sod below, <br />The walls caved crazily; <br />We only heard the wind of woe <br />Where once was glow and glee. <br /> <br />So there we stood disconsolate <br />Beneath the Midnight Dome, <br />And ancient miner and his mate, <br />Before our wedded home, <br />Where we had know such love and cheer . . . <br />I sighed, then soft she said: <br />"Do not regret - remember, dear, <br /> We, too, are dead."<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ghosts-5/
