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.
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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.
For spirits when they please
Can either sex assume, or both.
For spirits when they please
Can either sex assume, or both.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth read more
Now it is the time of night
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the churchway paths to glide.
Whence and what are thou, execrable shape?
Whence and what are thou, execrable shape?
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.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
read more
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.
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.
The unexpected disappearance of Mr. Canning from the scene,
followed by the transient and embarrassed phantom of Lord
read more
The unexpected disappearance of Mr. Canning from the scene,
followed by the transient and embarrassed phantom of Lord
Goderich.
