The Gas Lamp Ghost

The only gas lamp left in the street

Was sitting outside my door,

The rest now lay on a rubbish heap

Had been cleared some years before,

But strangely, all of the mist that once

Obscured the street from sight,

Now hung and clung to that gas lamp frame

And darkened my door at night.

I’d stand and stare through my window there

Whenever the mist was high,

Painting the drains and window panes

In the glow of the gas lamp eye,

And those that passed in the street at night

Would flicker and then be gone,

Just like a scene on the silver screen

They would pause, then hurry along.

And that’s when I saw the girl out there

One misty night, about ten,

All dressed up for a late night show

She’d certainly go, but when?

She wore a dress in a style I’d thought

More in Victorian taste,

A woollen shawl and a bonnet, small,

And a bodice of Nottingham lace.

She’d disappear in the swirling mist

Then reappear in the glow,

She’d cling on tight to the gas lamp post,

She wasn’t ready to go,

Perhaps she waited for someone there

I thought, how lucky he’d be,

She looked so beautiful, standing where

I’d wish she was waiting for me.

She seemed to come every friday night

But only during a mist,

If only she would knock at my door

I thought, I couldn’t resist.

One friday night it began to rain,

And she looked in a great distress

Now I could venture to ask her in

If only to save her dress.

I stepped right up and opened the door,

Her image would flicker and fade,

I saw her turn, and stare from the glow

That the old gas lamp had made,

‘So there you are,’ came her breezy voice,

‘I’ve been waiting here, you see,

Every friday at ten o’clock

Since 1893.’

That was the moment the lamp blew out

In a strong and sudden gust,

The glow, the rain and the girl had gone

With the mist remaining, just,

I stand alone by the window pane

And I peer into the mist,

To search forever the girl who came

That I saw, but never kissed.

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[PhoenixDown]

Oh my god David....
I have chills man - chills.
This is probably my favorite of yours thus far, although I am skeptical to say that only because I have found many of your works to be cherished. This is really fantastic though. Your work is truly a gift, my friend. You are inspirational and a technical, professional name to follow.
I like this for so many awesome reasons,
but I love most how my mind is left with this ghost, who was forgotten by everyone, just waiting for anyone --- the epitome of being a ghost ----- At least this is one way I look at a few parts here.
Truly enjoy this man. Do not stop!

[andrew mitchell]

a chilling top write.................

[Lady Lola]

How utterly sad that he never really got to meet her, having waited and longed for her for so long (and maybe she waited for him specifically as well). I hope his attempt to talk to her set her spirit free.
I personally adore Victorian fiction, so this is especially lovely for me to read.
The poem's form is superb and its flow very natural.
Absolutely brilliant!

[anne]

Davis, the stories in your poem are exceptional.

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing tale my friend.
"To search forever the girl who came
That I saw, but never kissed."
I like the mystery, wish and place. Thank you David for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[richieb]

This is one of my many favorites of yours David. We men all are partial to a beautiful mystery woman. Whether she is a ghost or a lady of our nightly dreams, she has the ability to stir our emotions and make us a whimpering mess.
Now that I'm nearly 62, all the ladies are pretty and they are all out reach. Great story my friend.
Richie.

[Valentine]

This is one for my favorites list. So well you drew me in to that unexpected ending. Keep them coming. Valentine

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A most thought provoking piece that sears against every sinew and titled fear within ones mind, well done, good read.

[M. L. F.]

The emotions are literally dripping in the following stanzas David:


She’d disappear in the swirling mist
Then reappear in the glow,
She’d cling on tight to the gas lamp post,
She wasn’t ready to go,
Perhaps she waited for someone there
I thought, how lucky he’d be,
She looked so beautiful, standing where
I’d wish she was waiting for me.

Gorgeous.. :

That was the moment the lamp blew out
In a strong and sudden gust,
The glow, the rain and the girl had gone
With the mist remaining, just,
I stand alone by the window pane
And I peer into the mist,
To search forever the girl who came
That I saw, but never kissed.

Impressed as always. You know what a sucker I am for creepy tales and the emotion you seem to weave into each one. Thank you for sharing again David.
...Misty

[Chris Fortune]

Wonderful poem, I can feel a great sense of longing and nostalgia in this.