经过一个沉闷、灰暗的平原，一种永恒的悲伤似乎在那里沉思?在寂静的大地上，当圆月把她紧张而苍白的脸转向不祥的荒芜的沙地时，风悄悄从梦者身边掠过，感觉像幽灵的手在抚摸，穿过高大静止的树木和缠绕在老灌木林小径上的灌木丛，在一片宽阔的空地上，柳树在那里沉思，枯萎的灌木向后退缩，独立着一所房子，没有人拥有，却没有受到风暴的伤害?年代的攻击。这是一个奇怪而悲伤的地方。屋顶上青苔丛生，玉米叶发芽，空中一片寂静，没有野鸟的鸣叫?翼。看见的人相信老房子和有知觉的东西一样悲伤。没有鹦鹉从这片土地周围的迷人的树林子里虔诚地围成一圈?是猫叫，还是野猫叫?哭泣，也不是喜鹊?他们的影子带着一种冰冷的颤栗和一种可怕的错误的感觉而寒颤。小溪在扭曲的野蔷薇和卷曲的藤蔓下蜿蜒而过;在黑暗深处的床上滑倒?它对着它悄悄流淌的河水，用一种单调的、古怪而沉闷的声音低吟着。 On a furrowed paddock that fronts the house grow the saplings straight and tall, And noxious weeds in the garden ground on the desolate pathways crawl; But the briar twists back with the supple-jack ?tween the rocks of the rubble wall. On the rotting wall of the gloomy rooms bats gather with elfin wings, And a snake is coiled by the shattered door where a giant lizard clings, For this house of care is the fitting lair of a myriad voiceless things. Once I camped alone on the clearing?s edge through the lapse of a livelong night, When the wan moon flooded the house and land in a lake of her ghostly light, And the silence dread of a world long dead filled my credulous soul with fright. For no wind breathed by, but a nameless awe was abroad in the open there, And the camp-fire burned with a pale, thin flame in the chill, translucent air, And my dog lay prone, like a chiselled stone, with his opaline eyes a-stare. In the trancéd air was an omen felt and the sway of a subtle spell, And I waited long for I know not what, but the pale night augured well? At a doleful hour, when the dead have power, lo! A hideous thing befell. From the shadows flung by the far bush wall came a treacherous, phantom crew, Like the smoke rack blown o?er the plain at morn when the bracken is wet with dew. Not a sound they made, and their forms no shade on the moonlit surface threw. And the night was changed to the quiet eve of a beautiful summer?s day, And the old house warmed as with life and light, and was set in a garden gay, And a babe that crawled by the doorway called to a kitten that leapt in play. But the black fiends circled the peaceful home, and I fathomed their evil quest; From the ground up-springing they hurled their spears, and danced with a demon zest, And a girl lay dead ?neath the roses red with a wound in her fair, white breast. Through the looped wall spat a rifle?s flame, and the devilish pack gave tongue, For a lean form writhed in a torment dire, on the crimsoned stubble flung. Many echoes spoke, and the sluggish smoke on the shingles rolled and clung. Yet again and oft did the flame spring forth, and each shaft from the dwelling shore Through a savage heart, but the band unawed at the walls of the homestead tore, And a man and wife fought for love and life with the horde by the broken door. Then ghostly and grey, from the dusky bush came a company riding fast. Seven horses strode on the buoyant air, and I trembled and gazed aghast, Such a deadly hate on the forehead sate of each rider racing past. With a cry they leapt on the dusky crew, and swept them aside like corn In the lusty stroke of the mower?s scythe, and distracted and overborne Many demons fled, leaving many dead, by the hoofs of the horses torn. Not in vain?not all?though a father lay with the light on his cold, grey face, And a mother bled, with a murdered maid held close in a last embrace, For the babe laughed back at a visage black death drawn to a foul grimace. Came a soft wind swaying the pendent leaves, like the sigh of awakening day, And the darkness fell on my tired eyes, for the phantoms had passed away; And the breezes bore from a distant shore faint echoes of ocean?s play. Past a dull, grey plain, through the tall, still trees, where the lingering days inspire An unspoken woe in the heart of man, and the nights hold visions dire, Stands a house alone that no dwellers own, yet unmarred by the storm or fire.