To-Night, To-Night
to-night, to-night
we’ll storm
the house that hangs
above the narrow street
that leads to port.
Ah! that small house
How queer it is:
Its garden how deranged
How creaking
The iron stile
That opens into the garden!
And in the night
The stormy night
None go near the house
For all around
The ground’s unsanctified
By horses’ hooves
And elves and goblins green
And ghosts unseen.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Added by Poetry Lover
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