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قراءة كتاب Poetry of the Supernatural
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own.
Stephens, Riccardo. The Phantom Piper. (In The Book of Highland Verse.)
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.)
Heard all the dead man did.
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."
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 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.
Upon thy helm no hand,
No ripple hath the soundless wind
That smites thee from the land.
—— The Old Wife and the New.
And that ice-cold hand withdrawn;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
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!
Benét, William Rose. Devil's Blood. (Second Film in "Films," in "The Burglar of the Zodiac.")
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 Woman like the sun.
And they were dead. They did not know it.
They did not know their time was done.
—— Hauntings.
Is haunted by strange doubts, evasive dreams.
Burnet, Dana. Ballad of the Late John Flint. (In his Poems. 1915.)
"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.)
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.)
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.)
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.)
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.)
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.)
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.)
Dolor Oogo, Dolor Oogo,
Drownèd men since 'eighty-four
Down in Dolor Oogo:
On the cliff against the sky,
Ailsa, wife of