' (""Against the wooded liill it stands," , 



Ghost of a dead home, staring through 

 Its broken lights on wasted lands 

 Where old-time harvests grew. 



" Unploughed, unsown, by scythe unshorn, 

 The poor, forsaken farm-fields lie, 

 Once rich and rife with golden corn 

 And pale green breadths of rye. 



" Of healthful herb and flower bereft, 

 -The garden plot no housewife keeps. 

 Through weeds and tangle only left, 

 The snake, its tenant, creeps. 



"A lilac spray, still blossom-clad, 



Sways slow before the empty rooms; 

 Beside the roofless porch a sad 

 Pathetic red rose blooms." 



On the shores of the Ashley River, 

 not mahy miles from Charleston, 

 South Carolina, may be found the 

 most desolate spot which one can im- 

 agine. The picture is different from 

 the New England view, for an addi- 

 tional touch of melancholy is given 

 by the grey moss which drapes every 

 tree, and which is stirred by every 

 passing breeze, a noiseless, fluttering 

 cloud of grey, — a pall, in this case. 

 133 



