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قراءة كتاب Poetry of the Supernatural
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moonlight
The white ghosts walk in a row,
If one could see it, an awful sight.
"Listen!" said Fair Yolande of the flowers,
"This is the tune of Seven Towers."
Österling, Anders. Meeting of Phantoms. (In Charles Wharton Stork's Anthology of Swedish Lyrics from 1750 to 1915.)
Saw my lost sweetheart,
Fearlessly toward me
I saw her stray.
So pale! I thought then;
She smiled her answer:
"My heart, my spirit,
I've kissed away."
O'Sullivan, Vincent. He Came on Holy Saturday. (In Padric Gregory's Modern Anglo-Irish Verse.)
The weary ghost came back,
And laid his hand upon my brow,
And whispered me, "Alack!
There sits no angel by the tomb,
The Sepulchre is black."
Poe, Edgar Allan. The Conqueror Worm.
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.
—— Ulalume.
But were stopped by the door of a tomb—
By the door of a legended tomb;
And I said—"What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of that legended tomb?"
She replied—"Ulalume—Ulalume—
'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume."
She never doubts but she always wonders. Again and again in imagination she crosses the bridge of death and explores the farther shore. Her ghosts come back with familiar forms, familiar sensations, and familiar words.—Elisabeth Luther Cary.
—— A Chilly Night.
Dotting plain and mound.
They stood in the blank moonlight
But no shadow lay on the ground.
They spoke without a voice
And they leaped without a sound.
—— Goblin Market.
Pricking up her golden head:
"We must not look at goblin men.
We must not buy their fruits;
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?"
Rossetti, Dante Gabriel. Eden Bower.
(Eden Bower's in flower)
Not a drop of her blood was human,
But she was made like a soft sweet woman.
—— Sister Helen.
Its forty-two short verses unfold the whole story of the wronged woman's ruthless vengeance on her false lover as she watches the melting of the "waxen man" which, according to the old superstitions, is to carry with it the destruction, body and soul, of him in whose likeness it was fashioned.—H. R. Fox-Bourne.
Sister Helen?
Ah! What is this that sighs in the frost?"
"A soul that's lost as mine is lost,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Lost, lost, all lost, between Hell and Heaven!)
Scott, Sir Walter. Child Dyring.
Their mither she under the mools heard that.
—— The Dance of Death.
A vision appearing to a Scottish sentinel on the eve of Waterloo.
'Twixt Britain and the bands of France
Wild as marsh-borne meteor's glance,
Strange phantoms wheeled a revel dance
And doom'd the future slain.
Scott, William Bell. The Witch's Ballad. (In The Oxford book of English verse.)
Into the mist and off my feet,
And, dancing on each chimney top
I saw a thousand darling imps
Keeping time with skip and hop.
Shairp, John Campbell. Cailleach bein-y-vreich. (In Stedman's Victorian Anthology.)
And laugh as we stride the storm,
I, and the witch of the Cruachan Ben
And the scowling-eyed Seul-Gorm.
Shanly, C. D. The Walker of the Snow. (In Stedman's Victorian Anthology.)
As I followed, bending low,
That the walking of the stranger
Left no footmarks on the snow.
Sharp, William. ("Fiona McLeod.") Cap'n Goldsack.
Where among the dead men the sharks flit to and fro—
There Cap'n Goldsack goes creeping, creeping, creeping,
Looking for his treasure down below.
Southey, Robert. The Old Woman of Berkeley.
The fiends have been my slaves.
From sleeping babes I have sucked the breath,
And breaking by charms the sleep of death,
I have call'd the dead from their graves.
And the Devil will fetch me now in fire
My witchcrafts to atone;
And I who have troubled the dead man's grave
Will never have rest in my