The Haunted Homes of England / Andrew Lang

The Haunted Homes of England,

How eerily they stand,

While through them flit their ghosts--to wit,

The Monk with the Red Hand,

The Eyeless Girl--an awful spook--

To stop the boldest breath,

The boy that inked his copybook,

And so got 'wopped' to death!

Call them not shams--from haunted Glamis

To haunted Woodhouselea,

I mark in hosts the grisly ghosts

I hear the fell Banshie!

I know the spectral dog that howls

Before the death of Squires;

In my 'Ghosts'-guide' addresses hide

For Podmore and for Myers!

I see the Vampire climb the stairs

From vaults below the church;

And hark! the Pirate's spectre swears!

O Psychical Research,

Canst Thou not hear what meets my ear,

The viewless wheels that come?

The wild Banshie that wails to thee?

The Drummer with his drum?

O Haunted Homes of England,

Though tenantless ye stand,

With none content to pay the rent,

Through all the shadowy land,

Now, Science true will find in you

A sympathetic perch,

And take you all, both Grange and Hall,

For Psychical Research!