By: Ardis E. Parshall - October 31, 2013 The Vigil By Elsie Chamberlain Carroll The walls are looped with cobwebs;Each window shade’s awry;The fire-grate is broken;The shrubs outside are dry. A smell of musty danknessPervades the lonesome air,But I feel a something preciousThat still is lingering there. This was a home – a sanctum –Where a spirit came to be,Composed of part of each of usWho were a family. And so, tonight, returning...
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