What beck'ning ghost along the moonlight shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?

What beck'ning ghost along the moonlight shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?

There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.

There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.

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?

Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts.

Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts.

The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she.

The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she.

So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep read more

So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep from mine eyes away;
I will go down to the chapel and pray.

I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said
That even read more

I look for ghosts; but none will force
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said
That even there was intercourse
Between the living and the dead.

Where entity and quiddity,
The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly.

Where entity and quiddity,
The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly.

Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee!
read more

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.