Her velvet garter held a bell,
A tiny bell that when she strolled,
Marked her a strumpet tall and bold
With kisses and much more to sell.
I paused upon the haunted street,
Before the scarlet painted door,
Met by this gorgeous paramour,
Scant clothing very trim and neat.
Her blue eyes each a haunted well,
Wherein it seemed sleek Sirens lolled,
With chatelaines and torques of gold.
Once more I heard her tiny bell.
She whispered things that made me blush.
I saw her in a castle’s keep
In chambers never meant for sleep,
In scented bedrooms high and plush.
Along the street a coach-and-four
Made sparks against the cobble stone,
I heard my lovely lady groan,
I marked the coach’s odd décor.
The driver’s head a grinning skull,
His horses desperate for the run,
Each one a wan grim skeleton,
Chomping on their bits to pull.
She turned to me and said “Farewell,
My time is short, I must away,
To that grim place beyond Death’s bay.
Here, kindly keep my tiny bell.”
Her blue eyes each a haunted well,
Wherein it seemed sleek Sirens lolled,
With chatelaines and torques of gold,
Once more I heard her tiny bell.
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Submission Name: A Ghost From 1891
