Page:Frost - A Boy's Will, 1915.djvu/19

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GHOST HOUSE
13

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.
 
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.

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.