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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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.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
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.
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.
Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts.
Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts.
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?
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.
For spirits when they please
Can either sex assume, or both.
For spirits when they please
Can either sex assume, or both.
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?
