A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;
As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.
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I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire,
And airy tongues that syllable men's names.
Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire,
And airy tongues that syllable men's names.
The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she.
The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she.
Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts.
Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts.
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.
Whence and what are thou, execrable shape?
Whence and what are thou, execrable shape?
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.
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 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?
