All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,
All intellect, all sense, and as they please
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All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,
All intellect, all sense, and as they please
They limb themselves, and colour, shape, or size,
Assume, as likes them best, condense or rare.

What are these,
So withered and so wild in their attire
That took not like th' inhabitants read more

What are these,
So withered and so wild in their attire
That took not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth
And yet are on't?

Why, so can I, or so can any man;
But will they come when you do call for them?

Why, so can I, or so can any man;
But will they come when you do call for them?

I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee!
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Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee!
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.

The unexpected disappearance of Mr. Canning from the scene,
followed by the transient and embarrassed phantom of Lord
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The unexpected disappearance of Mr. Canning from the scene,
followed by the transient and embarrassed phantom of Lord
Goderich.

The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she.

The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she.

My people too were scared with eerie sounds,
A footstep, a low throbbing in the walls.
A read more

My people too were scared with eerie sounds,
A footstep, a low throbbing in the walls.
A noise of falling weights that never fell,
Weird whispers, bells that rang without a hand,
Door-handles turn'd when none was at the door,
And bolted doors that open'd of themselves;
And one betwixt the dark and light had seen
Her, bending by the cradle of her babe.

Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!

Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!