Classic Poem

An army of vermin, mice, rats

Romps in the hallway which shimmers in the moonlight.

The wind cries out as if in dream and whimpers.

At the window the shadows of small leaves quiver.

Occasionally birds twitter in the branches

And spiders creep on the bleak walls.

Through empty ways pale specks shudder.

A quaint silence dwells in the house.

In the courtyard lights seem to float

On putrid wood, decayed junk.

Then a star glistens in a black pool.

Statues still stand there from old times.

One still sees contours from other things

And a writing, faded on rotten signs,

Also perhaps the colors of cheerful pictures:

Angels singing before Mary's throne.