Ella Wheeler Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс)
The Phantom Ball
You remember the hall on the corner? To-night as I walked down street I heard the sound of music, And the rhythmic beat and beat, In time to the pulsing measure Of lightly tripping feet. And I turned and entered the doorway-- It was years since I had been there-- Years, and life seemed altered: Pleasure had changed to care. But again I was hearing the music And watching the dancers fair. And then, as I stood and listened, The music lost its glee; And instead of the merry waltzers There were ghosts of the Used-to-be-- Ghosts of the pleasure-seekers Who once had danced with me. Oh, 'twas a ghastly picture! Oh, 'twas a gruesome crowd! Each bearing a skull on his shoulder, Each trailing a long white shroud, As they whirled in the dance together, And the music shrieked aloud. As they danced, their dry bones rattled Like shutters in a blast; And they stared from eyeless sockets On me as they circled past; And the music that kept them whirling Was a funeral dirge played fast. Some of them wore their face-cloths, Others were rotted away. Some had mould on their garments, And some seemed dead but a day. Corpses all, but I knew them As friends, once blithe and gay. Beauty and strength and manhood-- And this was the end of it all: Nothing but phantoms whirling In a ghastly skeleton ball. But the music ceased--and they vanished, And I came away from the hall.
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