CONSOLATION
Full dismal blows the wind
Without my cabin, here,
And many times I find
Myself possessed of fear.
I often hear a sound
As if a stranger tried
To enter here, but found
The door made fast inside.
The nights are filled with dread,
And fancy even scrolls
Gray visions of the dead—
Ghosts of departed souls.
But never near me creeps
What fancy oft invites.
My dog a vigil keeps
Throughout the awful nights.
Howard C. Kegley.