A poem by Alan Seeger (1888-1916)

Another prospect pleased the builder’s eye,

And Fashion tenanted (where Fashion wanes)

Here in the sorrowful suburban lanes

When first these gables rose against the sky.

Relic of a romantic taste gone by,

This stately monument alone remains,

Vacant, with lichened walls and window-panes

Blank as the windows of a skull. But I,

On evenings when autumnal winds have stirred

In the porch-vines, to this gray oracle

Have laid a wondering ear and oft-times heard,

As from the hollow of a stranded shell,

Old voices echoing (or my fancy erred)

Things indistinct, but not insensible.

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