The Ghost of Goshen



Through Goshen Hollow, where hemlocks grow,
Where rushing rills, with flash and flow,
Are over the rough rocks falling;
Where fox, where bear, and catamount hide,
In holes and dens In the mountain side,
A Circuit-preacher once used to ride,
And his name was Rufus Rawling.

He was set in his ways and what was strange,
If you argued with him he would not change,
One could get nothing through him.
Solemn and slow In style was he,
Slender and slim as a tamarack tree,
And always ready to disagree
With every one that knew him.

One night he saddled his sorrel mare,
And started over to Ripton, where
He had promised to do some preaching.
Away he cantered over the hill,
Past the schoolhouse at Capen's mill;
The moon was down and the place was still,
Save the sound of a night-hawk screeching.

At last he came to a deep ravine,
He felt a kind of queer, and mean
Sensation stealing o'er him.
Old Sorrel began to travel slow,
Then gave a snort and refused to go;
The parson chucked, and he holloa'd 'whoa,'
And wondered what was before him.

Then suddenly he seemed to hear
A gurgling groan so very near,
It scattered his senses nearly.
'Go 'ome, go'ome,' It loudly cried,
'Go 'ome,' re-echoed the mountain side,
'Go 'ome,' away In the distance died-
He wished he was home sincerely.

And then before his startled sight,
A light flashed out upon the night
That seemed to 'beat all creation.'
Then through the bushes a figure stole,
With eyes of fire and lips of coal,
That froze his blood and shook his soul
With horror and consternation.

He lost his sermon, he dropped his book,
His hair stood up, and his saddle shook
Like a sawmill under motion
.No cry he uttered, no word he said,
But, suddenly turning Sorrel's head,
Away and out of the woods he fled
As fast as he could for Goshen.

The ghost he saw and the rattling bones
Were a pumpkin, a gourd, and some gravel stones,
That gave him all that glory;
But ne'er again up that mountain side,
In the light would Rufus Rawling ride,
And many a time I've laughed till I cried
To hear him tell the story.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on April 27, 2023

1:56 min read
151

Quick analysis:

Scheme AABCCCB DDEFFFE GGBHHHB IIEAAAE XXFCCCF JJKLLLK MMKNNNX OOFCCCF
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 2,033
Words 387
Stanzas 8
Stanza Lengths 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7

Discuss the poem The Ghost of Goshen with the community...

1 Comment
  • Wendell Daws
    Wendell Daws
    verses missing -next to last into the streets of Compton town the frighten parson come riding down his coat tail flapping in the wind like a tattered sail and his hair looked like awild goose in a gale and his face was as white as a pail of winter butter. he told the neighbors what he had seem that face of fire in that deep revine he told of its dreadful cries and dismal moans he got up quite a commotion I was only a boy in those gay hours as full of fun as the spring time flowers Its was I and the son of Jacob Powers who stated all that commotion The eyes of fire was just a pumbkin and a candle and a peice of coal was those black lips he saw It was just me and an old guard that made those dismal sounds MY grandmother taught me the poem in 1949 Wendell Daws-- Roland OK 
    LikeReply 26 years ago

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"The Ghost of Goshen" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Mar. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/3490/the-ghost-of-goshen>.

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