每当我沿着伊利的小路去萨芬时，都会经过一幢破旧的农舍，上面的瓦片已经破碎，一片漆黑。我想我已经走过它一百次了，但我总是停下来一分钟看看那所房子，那所悲惨的房子，那所没人住的房子。我从来没见过闹鬼的房子，但我听说有这样的事情;他们谈论灵魂，他们的欢乐和悲伤。我知道这房子不是闹鬼的，我也希望是闹鬼的，真的。因为如果有一两个鬼魂，它就不会这么孤独了。通往萨芬路上的这所房子需要十多块玻璃，而且应该有人把人行道上的杂草清除掉，拿把大镰刀把草割掉。它需要新的油漆和瓦片，藤蔓也应该修剪和捆扎;但它最需要的是住在里面的人。如果我有很多钱，而且还清了所有的债务，我会雇一帮人用刷子、锯子和铲子干活。 I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free. Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door, Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store. But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone For the lack of something within it that it has never known. But a house that has done what a house should do, a house that has sheltered life, That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife, A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet, Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet. So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back, Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart, For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.