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On this breezy October morn, I walk
in the swift shadows of cloud-cursing rooks,
watching the world wake on the horizon.
All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.
We meet them at the doorway, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.
Our town, Coventry, England, is famous for the Lady Godiva legend.
Essentially a woman supposedly rode around our city about 1000 years ago on a horse without wearing any clothes to embarrass her husband into reducing taxes for the poor. Some historians now doubt if that did in fact happen.
There is a statue of her in the city centre.
Do a wikipedia search for "Lady Godiva" to find out more.