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قراءة كتاب Poetry of the Supernatural

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Poetry of the Supernatural

Poetry of the Supernatural

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
الصفحة رقم: 5

own.

Stephens, Riccardo. The Phantom Piper. (In The Book of Highland Verse.)

But when the year is at its close
Right down the road to Hell he goes.
There the gaunt porters all agrin
Fling back the gates to let him in,
Then damned and devil, one and all,
Make mirth and hold high carnival.

Swinburne, Algernon Charles. After Death. (In Poems and Ballads, First Series.)

The four boards of the coffin lid
Heard all the dead man did.
The first curse was in his mouth,
Made of grave's mould and deadly drouth.

Taylor, William. Lenore.

The most successful rendering of Bürger's much-translated "Lenore," and the direct inspiration of Scott's "William and Helen."

Tramp, tramp across the land they speede,
Splash, splash across the sea:
"Hurrah! The dead can ride apace.
Dost fear to ride with me?"

Watson, Rosamund Marriott-. The Farm on the Links. (In The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse.)

What is it cries with the crying of the curlews?
What comes apace on those fearful, stealthy feet?
Back from the chill sea-deeps, gliding o'er the sand dunes,
Home to the old home, once again to meet?

Whittier, John Greenleaf. The Dead Ship of Harpswell.

No foot is on thy silent deck,
Upon thy helm no hand,
No ripple hath the soundless wind
That smites thee from the land.

—— The Old Wife and the New.

Ring and bracelet all are gone,
And that ice-cold hand withdrawn;
But she hears a murmur low,
Full of sweetness, full of woe,
Half a sigh and half a moan:
"Fear not! Give the dead her own."

THE YOUNGER POETS

The darkness behind me is burning with eyes,
It needs not my turning, I know otherwise:
The air is a-quiver with rustle of wings
And I feel the cold shiver of spiritual things!

"Instinct and Reason" from "The Book of Winifred Maynard."

Benét, William Rose. Devil's Blood. (Second Film in "Films," in "The Burglar of the Zodiac.")

. . . Down the path—
Is it but shadow?—steals a thread of wrath,
A red bright thread. It reaches him. He reels.
Wet! Warm! Wily athwart his step it steals
And stains his white court footgear, toes to heels.

Brooke, Rupert. Dead Men's Love. (In his Collected Poems. 1918.)

There was a damned successful Poet.
There was a Woman like the sun.
And they were dead. They did not know it.
They did not know their time was done.

—— Hauntings.

So a poor ghost, beside his misty streams,
Is haunted by strange doubts, evasive dreams.

Burnet, Dana. Ballad of the Late John Flint. (In his Poems. 1915.)

The Bridegroom smiled a twisted smile,
"The wine is strong," he said.
The Bride she twirled her wedding ring
Nor lifted up her head;
And there were three at John Flint's board,
And one of them was dead.

Campbell, William Wilfred. The Mother. (In John W. Garvin's Canadian Poets and Poetry.)

I dreamed that a rose-leaf hand did cling;
Oh, you cannot bury a mother in spring!
     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .
I nestled him soft to my throbbing breast,
And stole me back to my long, long rest.

—— The Were-wolves. (In Stedman's Victorian Anthology.)

Each panter in the darkness
Is a demon-haunted soul,
The shadowy, phantom were-wolves
That circle round the pole.

Carman, Bliss. The Nancy's Pride. (In his Ballads of Lost Haven.)

Her crew lean forth by the rotting shrouds
With the Judgment in their face;
And to their mates' "God save you!"
Have never a word of grace.

—— The Yule Guest. (In Ballads of Lost Haven.)

But in the Yule, O Yanna,
Up from the round dim sea
And reeling dungeons of the fog,
I am come back to thee!

Chalmers, Patrick R. The Little Ghost. (In his Green Days and Blue Days.)

Down the long path, beset
With heaven-scented, haunting mignonette,
The gardeners say
A little grey
Ghost-lady walks!

Colum, Padraic. The Ballad of Downal Baun. (In Wild Earth and Other Poems.)

"O dream-taught man," said the woman—
She stood where the willows grew,
A woman from the country
Where the cocks never crew.

Couch, Arthur Quiller-. Dolor Oogo. (In John Masefield's A Sailor's Garland.)

Thirteen men by Ruan Shore,
Dolor Oogo, Dolor Oogo,
Drownèd men since 'eighty-four
Down in Dolor Oogo:
On the cliff against the sky,
Ailsa, wife of

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