Boot+Kitty=Poetry in motion
T’was on a wintry dawn: dark, drear and cold.
An ancient house was to strangers sold;
And there no more shall ghostly children play:
Such souvenirs must be kept at bay.
'Deer's coments are to the mark, Marc. He's a good tight writer who knows meter very well (he should, considering the number of outstanding parking tickets he has - lol).
Anyway, back to the topic
I tend to write like I speak, so making the verb the last word in a line always strikes a discordant note for me. I know it's poetic license, but, I'm no poet!
From your poem, it appears you are saying that ghosts only occupy the home when it does not change hands. That may seem ominous for the original owners, but not for the future buyer, who could be any one of us at any house, instead of just those who own the haunted houses now. Hense, shifting the focus to all of us poor schmucks who are thinking of buying a house could deepen the poem's darker side.
The dawn: wintry, dark, drear and cold;
Wrapped the ancient estate to strangers sold.
The ghostly brood, children in their play,
Marked new souls to be held at bay.
I think I just changed your focus. Lemme go back and read some more.
I like the way you write Marc - you are one deep dude.