Quiet House at Night

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This house’s air is thick with thought
And deep into the past I see.
Tonight the coffined ones will walk,
For what are ghosts but memory?

But why is memory so strong
And oh so close akin to fear
When those I love, and love and lost,
Have never passed the pathways here?

I do not know and will not guess,
Lest I offend my quiet hosts.
Perhaps the thought before was wrong,
And what are memories but ghosts?