Apparitions

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 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?

A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
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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.

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.

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?

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?

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.

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.

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.