While walking on a long dirt road
In forest depths, with trees so tall
In twilight’s glare and Autumn cold
I came upon an old stone wall.
I watched its stones with steady gaze
And pondered their mute mystery
And as my mind slipped in a haze
To my surprise, they spoke to me.
A quaint low voice, to me, it said
“Come hear my tale as you stroll by
And learn about this place you tread
Sad spirit of the woods am I”.
“A farmer, I was once, tis true
And here by my stone wall you stand
From this green place my land plot grew
For fifty years I worked this land”.
“Long days we tilled this stubborn soil
And gathered from it all these stones
To build these walls, an endless toil
A heavy load upon our bones”.
“And from this plot we made a home
My sons and spouse and family
About the fields our sheep would roam
A struggling life but we were free”.
“A wooden house we built near here
All day in soil, crop seeds we’d place
With axe and plow, this ground we’d clear
At night, sat by the fireplace”.
“But one cold night, I caught a flu
My wife and sons gathered around
And gave me medicine and brew
No remedy was ever found”.
“And though with all their might they tried
This farmer’s life, they could not save
Within a somber week I died
And then was laid into my grave”.
“My family mourned and sadly wailed
And tried their best to carry on
But fore a year our homestead failed
They packed their clothes and then were gone”.
“Where once was life, now not a sound,
With Summer rains and Winter snow
My home collapsed back to the ground
Now nothing but a cellar hole”.
“So now my spirit hovers near
This homestead lost to history
Though through the years my wall’s still here
A monument for all to see”.
The ghostly voice at once did cease
As I stared at the old stone wall
And prayed his spirit would find peace
And answer to great Heaven’s call.
I could not help but feel much pain
For he to whom I’ve penned this rhyme
He built a farm but all in vain
And lost it to cruel fate and time.
