Abraham Lincoln at the door,
As someone is in his bedroom.
He only watches, nothing more.
Dolly Madison, seen to fume
When Her Rose Garden's trifled with.
Those who dared building on it,
Saw and heard her anger - no myth!
And in the Rose Room, he does sit,
And swearing up a storm, he's there,
Andrew Jackson, some say be.
In the East Room, some say is where
Abigail Adams hangs laundry.
Presidents and First Ladies roam,
Ghosts in the White House, once called home.
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Comments about this poem (House Spirits by Ima Ryma )
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