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.