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diff --git a/39494.txt b/39494.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d484626 --- /dev/null +++ b/39494.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1572 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poetry of the Supernatural, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poetry of the Supernatural + +Author: Various + +Release Date: April 20, 2012 [EBook #39494] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETRY OF THE SUPERNATURAL *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Lisa Reigel, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from images made available by the +HathiTrust Digital Library.) + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: Words in italics in the original are surrounded by +_underscores_. Words in bold in the original are surrounded by =equal +signs=. Ellipses match the original. + + + + + Poetry of the Supernatural + + + Compiled by Earle F. Walbridge + + + [Illustration] + + + The New York + Public Library + 1919 + + + + + REPRINTED JUNE 1919 + FROM THE + BRANCH LIBRARY NEWS OF MAY 1919 + + PRINTED AT THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY + + form p-099 [vi-23-19 5m] + + + + +POETRY OF THE SUPERNATURAL[3:1] + + +Lafcadio Hearn, in his _Interpretations of Literature_ (one of the most +valuable and delightful books on literature which has been written in +our time), says: "Let me tell you that it would be a mistake to suppose +that the stories of the supernatural have had their day in fine +literature. On the contrary, wherever fine literature is being produced, +either in poetry or in prose, you will find the supernatural element +very much alive. . . But without citing other living writers, let me +observe that there is scarcely any really great author in European +literature, old or new, who has not distinguished himself in the +treatment of the supernatural. In English literature, I believe, there +is no exception,--even from the time of the Anglo-Saxon poets to +Shakespeare, and from Shakespeare to our own day. And this introduces us +to the consideration of a general and remarkable fact,--a fact that I do +not remember to have seen in any books, but which is of very great +philosophical importance; there is something ghostly in all great art, +whether of literature, music, sculpture, or architecture." + +Feeling this, Mr. Walbridge has compiled the following list. It is not a +bibliography, nor even a "contribution toward" a bibliography, nor a +"reading list," in the usual sense, but the intelligent selection of a +number of instances in which poets, major and minor, have turned to +ghostly themes. If it causes you, reading one of its quotations, to hunt +for and read the whole poem, it will have served its purpose. If it +tells you of a poem you have never read--and so gives you a new +pleasure--or if it reminds you of one you had forgotten, it will have +been sufficiently useful. But for those who are fond of poetry, and fond +of recollecting poems which they have enjoyed, it is believed that the +list is not without interest in itself. Its quotations are taken from +the whole great range of English poetry, both before and after the time +of him "who made Prospero the magician, and gave him Caliban and Ariel +as his servants, who heard the Tritons blowing their horns round the +coral reefs of the Enchanted Isle, and the fairies singing to each other +in a wood near Athens, who led the phantom kings in dim procession +across the misty Scottish heath, and hid Hecate in a cave with the weird +sisters." + + +FOOTNOTES: + + [3:1] The picture on the front cover is from an illustration by + Mr. Gerald Metcalfe, for Coleridge's "Christabel," in _The + Poems of Coleridge_, published by John Lane. + + + + +POETRY OF THE SUPERNATURAL + +COMPILED BY EARLE F. WALBRIDGE + + _Like one that on a lonesome road + Doth walk in fear and dread, + And having once turned round, walks on, + And turns no more his head; + Because he knows a frightful fiend + Doth close behind him tread._ + + --_Rime of the Ancient Mariner._ + + + + +THE OLDER POETS + + +=Allingham=, William. A Dream. (In Charles Welsh's The Golden Treasury of +Irish Songs and Lyrics.) + + I heard the dogs howl in the moonlight night. + I went to the window to see the sight: + All the dead that ever I knew + Going one by one and two by two. + + +=Arnold=, Matthew. The Forsaken Merman. + + In its delicate loveliness "The Forsaken Merman" ranks high + among Mr. Arnold's poems. It is the story of a Sea-King, + married to a mortal maiden, who forsook him and her children + under the impulse of a Christian conviction that she must + return and pray for her soul.--_H. W. Paul._ + + She sate by the pillar: we saw her clear; + "Margaret, hist! Come quick, we are here! + Dear heart," I said, "We are long alone; + The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan." + But, ah, she gave me never a look, + For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book. + +---- St. Brandan. + + . . . a picturesque embodiment of a strange mediaeval legend + touching Judas Iscariot, who is supposed to be released from + Hell for a few hours every Christmas because he had done in + his life a single deed of charity.--_H. W. Paul._ + + +=Barlow=, Jane. Three Throws and One. (In Walter Jerrold's The Book of +Living Poets.) + + At each throw of my net there's a life must go down into death + on the sea. + At each throw of my net it comes laden, O rare, with my wish + back to me. + With my choice of all treasures most peerless that lapt in the + oceans be. + + +=Boyd=, Thomas. The King's Son. (In Padric Gregory's Modern Anglo-Irish +Verse.) + + Who rideth through the driving rain + At such a headlong speed? + Naked and pale he rides amain, + Upon a naked steed. + + +=Browning=, Elizabeth Barrett. The Lay of the Brown Rosary. + + Who meet there, my mother, at dawn and at even? + Who meet by that wall, never looking at heaven? + O sweetest my sister, what doeth with thee + The ghost of a nun with a brown rosary + And a face turned from heaven? + + +=Browning=, Robert. Mesmerism. + + And the socket floats and flares, + And the house-beams groan + And a foot unknown + Is surmised on the garret stairs + And the locks slip unawares. . . + + +=Buchanan=, Robert. The Ballad of Judas Iscariot. (In Stedman's Victorian +Anthology.) + + The beauty is chiefly in the central idea of forgiveness, but + the workmanship of this composition has also a very remarkable + beauty, a Celtic beauty of weirdness, such as we seldom find + in a modern composition touching religious + tradition.--_Lafcadio Hearn._ + + The body of Judas Iscariot + Lay stretched along the snow. + 'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot + Ran swiftly to and fro. + + +=Carleton=, William. Sir Turlough, or The Churchyard Bride. (In Stopford +Brooke's A Treasury of Irish Poetry.) + + The churchyard bride is accustomed to appear to the last + mourner in the churchyard after a burial, and, changing its + sex to suit the occasion, exacts a promise and a fatal kiss + from the unfortunate lingerer. + + He pressed her lips as the words were spoken, + Killeevy, O Killeevy! + And his banshee's wail--now far and broken-- + Murmured "Death" as he gave the token + By the bonny green woods of Killeevy. + + +=Chatterton=, Thomas. The Parliament of Sprites. + + "The Parliament of Sprites" is an interlude played by + Carmelite friars at William Canynge's house on the occasion of + the dedication of St. Mary Redcliffe's. One after another the + "antichi spiriti dolenti" rise up and salute the new edifice: + Nimrod and the Assyrians, Anglo-Saxon ealdormen and Norman + knights templars, and citizens of ancient Bristol.--_H. A. + Beers._ + + +=Coleridge=, Samuel Taylor. Christabel. + + The thing attempted in "Christabel" is the most difficult of + execution in the whole field of romance--witchery by + daylight--and the success is complete.--_John Gibson + Lockhart._ + +---- The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. + + About, about, in reel and rout + The death-fires danced at night; + The water, like a witch's oils, + Burnt green, and blue, and white. + + +=Cortissoz=, Ellen Mackay Hutchinson. On Kingston Bridge. (In Stedman's +American Anthology.) + + 'Twas all souls' night, and to and fro + The quick and dead together walked, + The quick and dead together talked, + On Kingston bridge. + + +=Crawford=, Isabella Valancy. The Mother's Soul. (In John Garvin's +Canadian Poets and Poetry.) + + Another elaborate variation on the theme of the return of a + mother from her grave to rescue her children. Miss Crawford's + mother does not go as far as the ghost in Robert Buchanan's + "Dead Mother," who not only makes three trips to assemble her + neglected family, but manages to appear to their delinquent + father, to his great discomfort and the permanent loss of his + sleep. + + +=Dobell=, Sydney. The Ballad of Keith of Ravelston. (In The Oxford Book of +English Verse.) + + A ballad unsurpassed in our literature for its weird + suggestiveness.--_Richard Garnett._ + + She makes her immemorial moan, + She keeps her shadowy kine; + O, Keith of Ravelston, + The sorrows of thy line! + + +=Drummond=, William Henry. The Last Portage. (In Wilfred Campbell's The +Oxford Book of Canadian Verse.) + + An' oh! mon Dieu! w'en he turn hees head + I'm seein' de face of my boy is dead. + + +=Eaton=, Arthur Wentworth Hamilton. The Phantom Light of the Baie des +Chaleurs. (In T. H. Rand's A Treasury of Canadian Verse.) + + This was the last of the pirate crew; + But many a night the black flag flew + From the mast of a spectre vessel sailed + By a spectre band that wept and wailed + For the wreck they had wrought on the sea, on the land, + For the innocent blood they had spilt on the sand + Of the Baie des Chaleurs. + + +=Field=, Eugene. The Peter-bird. (In his Songs and Other Verse.) + + These are the voices of those left by the boy in the farmhouse, + When, with his laughter and scorn, hatless and bootless and sockless, + Clothed in his jeans and his pride, Peter sailed out in the weather, + Broke from the warmth of his home into that fog of the devil, + Into the smoke of that witch brewing her damnable porridge! + + +=Freneau=, Philip. The Indian Burying-ground. (In Stedman's American +Anthology.) + + By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews, + In habit for the chase arrayed, + The hunter still the deer pursues, + The hunter and the deer--a shade. + + +=Graves=, Alfred Perceval. The Song of the Ghost. (In Padric Gregory's +Modern Anglo-Irish Verse.) + + O hush your crowing, both grey and red, + Or he'll be going to join the dead; + O cease from calling his ghost to the mould + And I'll come crowning your combs with gold. + + +=Guiney=, Louise Imogen. Peter Rugg, the Bostonian. (In Warner's Library +of the World's Best Literature, v. 41.) + + Upon those wheels on any path + The rain will follow loud, + And he who meets that ghostly man + Will meet a thunder-cloud. + And whosoever speaks with him + May next bespeak his shroud. + + +=Harte=, Francis Bret. A Greyport Legend. + + Still another phantom ship, a treacherous hulk that broke from + its moorings and drifted with a crew of children into the fog. + + +=Hawker=, Robert Stephen. Mawgan of Melhuach. (In Stedman's Victorian +Anthology.) + + Hard was the struggle, but at the last + With a stormy pang old Mawgan past, + And away, away, beneath their sight, + Gleam'd the red sail at pitch of night. + + +=Hawthorne=, Julian. Were-wolf. (In Stedman's American Anthology.) + + Dabbled with blood are its awful lips + Grinning in horrible glee. + The wolves that follow with scurrying feet + Sniffing that goblin scent, at once + Scatter in terror, while it slips + Away, to the shore of the frozen sea. + + +=Herrick=, Robert. The Hag. + + The Hag is astride, + This night for to ride, + The Devil and she together. + Through thick, and through thin, + Now out, and then in, + Though ne'er so foul be the weather. + + +=Hood=, Thomas. The Haunted House. + + O'er all there hung a shadow and a fear + A sense of mystery the spirit daunted + And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, + "The place is Haunted!" + + +=Houghton=, George. The Handsel Ring. (In Stedman's American Anthology.) + + A man and maid are plighting their troth in the tomb of an old + knight, the girl's father, when the man lucklessly drops the + ring through a crack in the floor of the tomb. + + "Let not thy heart be harried and sore + For a little thing!" + "Nay! but behold what broodeth there! + See the cold sheen of his silvery hair! + Look how his eyeballs roll and stare, + Seeking thy handsel ring!" + + +=Hugo=, Victor. The Djinns. (In Charles A. Dana's The Household Book of +Poetry.) + + Ha! they are on us, close without! + Shut tight the shelter where we lie! + With hideous din the monster rout, + Dragon and vampire, fill the sky! + + +=Joyce=, Patrick Weston. The Old Hermit's Story. (In Padric Gregory's +Modern Anglo-Irish Verse.) + + My curragh sailed on the western main, + And I saw, as I viewed the sea, + A withered old man upon a wave, + And he fixed his eyes on me. + + +=Keats=, John. La Belle Dame sans Merci. + + I saw pale kings, and princes too, + Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; + Who cry'd---"La belle dame sans merci + Hath thee in thrall." + +---- Lamia. + + "A serpent!" echoed he; no sooner said, + Than with a frightful scream she vanished: + And Lycius' arms were empty of delight, + As were his limbs of life, from that same night. + + +=Kingsley=, Charles. The Weird Lady. + + The swevens came up round Harold the earl + Like motes in the sunnes beam; + And over him stood the Weird Lady + In her charmed castle over the sea, + Sang "Lie thou still and dream." + + +=Leconte de Lisle=, Charles. Les Elfes. (In The Oxford Book of French +Verse.) + + --Ne m'arrete pas, fantome odieux! + Je vais epouser ma belle aux doux yeux. + --O mon cher epoux, la tombe eternelle + Sera notre lit de noce, dit-elle. + Je suis morte!--Et lui, la voyant ainsi, + D'angoisse et d'amour tombe mort aussi. + + +=Lockhart=, Arthur John. The Waters of Carr. (In T. H. Rand's A Treasury +of Canadian Verse.) + + 'Tis the Indian's babe, they say, + Fairy stolen; changed a fay; + And still I hear her calling, calling, calling, + In the mossy woods of Carr! + + +=Longfellow=, Henry Wadsworth. The Ballad of Carmilhan. + + For right ahead lay the Ship of the Dead + The ghostly Carmilhan! + Her masts were stripped, her yards were bare, + And on her bowsprit, poised in air, + Sat the Klaboterman. + + +=Macdonald=, George. Janet. (In Linton and Stoddard's Ballads and +Romances.) + + The night was lown and the stars sat still + A glintin' down the sky; + And the souls crept out of their mouldy graves + A' dank wi' lying by. + + +=McKay=, Charles. The Kelpie of Corrievreckan. (In Dugald Mitchell's The +Book of Highland Verse.) + + And every year at Beltan E'en + The Kelpie gallops across the green + On a steed as fleet as the wintry wind, + With Jessie's mournful ghost behind. + + +=Mackenzie=, Donald A. The Banshee. (In The Book of Highland Verse.) + + The linen that would wrap the dead + She beetled on a stone, + She stood with dripping hands, blood-red, + Low singing all alone-- + "His linen robes are pure and white, + For Fergus More must die tonight." + + +=Mallet=, David. William and Margaret. (In W. M. Dixon's The Edinburgh +Book of Scottish Verse.) + + The hungry worm my sister is, + The winding sheet I wear. + And cold and weary lasts our night, + Till that last morn appear. + + +=Moore=, Thomas. The Lake of the Dismal Swamp. + + They made her a grave too cold and damp + For a soul so warm and true; + And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp + Where all night long, by a firefly lamp, + She paddles her birch canoe. + + +=Morris=, William. The Tune of Seven Towers. + + No one walks there now; + Except in the white moonlight + The white ghosts walk in a row, + If one could see it, an awful sight. + "Listen!" said Fair Yolande of the flowers, + "This is the tune of Seven Towers." + + +=Oesterling=, Anders. Meeting of Phantoms. (In Charles Wharton Stork's +Anthology of Swedish Lyrics from 1750 to 1915.) + + I in a vision + Saw my lost sweetheart, + Fearlessly toward me + I saw her stray. + So pale! I thought then; + She smiled her answer: + "My heart, my spirit, + I've kissed away." + + +=O'Sullivan=, Vincent. He Came on Holy Saturday. (In Padric Gregory's +Modern Anglo-Irish Verse.) + + To-night on holy Saturday + The weary ghost came back, + And laid his hand upon my brow, + And whispered me, "Alack! + There sits no angel by the tomb, + The Sepulchre is black." + + +=Poe=, Edgar Allan. The Conqueror Worm. + + Through a circle that ever returneth in + To the self-same spot, + And much of Madness, and more of Sin, + And Horror the soul of the plot. + +---- Ulalume. + + And we passed to the end of a vista, + But were stopped by the door of a tomb-- + By the door of a legended tomb; + And I said--"What is written, sweet sister, + On the door of that legended tomb?" + She replied--"Ulalume--Ulalume-- + 'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume." + + +=Rossetti=, Christina. + + She never doubts but she always wonders. Again and again in + imagination she crosses the bridge of death and explores the + farther shore. Her ghosts come back with familiar forms, + familiar sensations, and familiar words.--_Elisabeth Luther + Cary._ + +---- A Chilly Night. + + I looked and saw the ghosts + Dotting plain and mound. + They stood in the blank moonlight + But no shadow lay on the ground. + They spoke without a voice + And they leaped without a sound. + +---- Goblin Market. + + "Lie close," Laura said, + Pricking up her golden head: + "We must not look at goblin men. + We must not buy their fruits; + Who knows upon what soil they fed + Their hungry thirsty roots?" + + +=Rossetti=, Dante Gabriel. Eden Bower. + + It was Lilith the wife of Adam. + (Eden Bower's in flower) + Not a drop of her blood was human, + But she was made like a soft sweet woman. + +---- Sister Helen. + + Its forty-two short verses unfold the whole story of the + wronged woman's ruthless vengeance on her false lover as she + watches the melting of the "waxen man" which, according to the + old superstitions, is to carry with it the destruction, body + and soul, of him in whose likeness it was fashioned.--_H. R. + Fox-Bourne._ + + "Ah! What white thing at the door has cross'd, + Sister Helen? + Ah! What is this that sighs in the frost?" + "A soul that's lost as mine is lost, + Little brother!" + (O Mother, Mary Mother, + Lost, lost, all lost, between Hell and Heaven!) + + +=Scott=, Sir Walter. Child Dyring. + + 'Twas lang i' the night, and the bairnies grat. + Their mither she under the mools heard that. + +---- The Dance of Death. + + A vision appearing to a Scottish sentinel on the eve of + Waterloo. + + . . . Down the destined plain + 'Twixt Britain and the bands of France + Wild as marsh-borne meteor's glance, + Strange phantoms wheeled a revel dance + And doom'd the future slain. + + +=Scott=, William Bell. The Witch's Ballad. (In The Oxford book of English +verse.) + + Drawn up I was right off my feet, + Into the mist and off my feet, + And, dancing on each chimney top + I saw a thousand darling imps + Keeping time with skip and hop. + + +=Shairp=, John Campbell. Cailleach bein-y-vreich. (In Stedman's Victorian +Anthology.) + + Then I mount the blast, and we ride full fast, + And laugh as we stride the storm, + I, and the witch of the Cruachan Ben + And the scowling-eyed Seul-Gorm. + + +=Shanly=, C. D. The Walker of the Snow. (In Stedman's Victorian +Anthology.) + + . . . I saw by the sickly moonlight + As I followed, bending low, + That the walking of the stranger + Left no footmarks on the snow. + + +=Sharp=, William. ("Fiona McLeod.") Cap'n Goldsack. + + Down in the yellow bay where the scows are sleeping, + Where among the dead men the sharks flit to and fro-- + There Cap'n Goldsack goes creeping, creeping, creeping, + Looking for his treasure down below. + + +=Southey=, Robert. The Old Woman of Berkeley. + + I have 'nointed myself with infant's fat, + The fiends have been my slaves. + From sleeping babes I have sucked the breath, + And breaking by charms the sleep of death, + I have call'd the dead from their graves. + And the Devil will fetch me now in fire + My witchcrafts to atone; + And I who have troubled the dead man's grave + Will never have rest in my own. + + +=Stephens=, Riccardo. The Phantom Piper. (In The Book of Highland Verse.) + + But when the year is at its close + Right down the road to Hell he goes. + There the gaunt porters all agrin + Fling back the gates to let him in, + Then damned and devil, one and all, + Make mirth and hold high carnival. + + +=Swinburne=, Algernon Charles. After Death. (In Poems and Ballads, First +Series.) + + The four boards of the coffin lid + Heard all the dead man did. + + The first curse was in his mouth, + Made of grave's mould and deadly drouth. + + +=Taylor=, William. Lenore. + + The most successful rendering of Buerger's much-translated + "Lenore," and the direct inspiration of Scott's "William and + Helen." + + Tramp, tramp across the land they speede, + Splash, splash across the sea: + "Hurrah! The dead can ride apace. + Dost fear to ride with me?" + + +=Watson=, Rosamund Marriott-. The Farm on the Links. (In The Oxford Book +of Victorian Verse.) + + What is it cries with the crying of the curlews? + What comes apace on those fearful, stealthy feet? + Back from the chill sea-deeps, gliding o'er the sand dunes, + Home to the old home, once again to meet? + +=Whittier=, John Greenleaf. The Dead Ship of Harpswell. + + No foot is on thy silent deck, + Upon thy helm no hand, + No ripple hath the soundless wind + That smites thee from the land. + +---- The Old Wife and the New. + + Ring and bracelet all are gone, + And that ice-cold hand withdrawn; + But she hears a murmur low, + Full of sweetness, full of woe, + Half a sigh and half a moan: + "Fear not! Give the dead her own." + + + + +THE YOUNGER POETS + + _The darkness behind me is burning with eyes, + It needs not my turning, I know otherwise: + The air is a-quiver with rustle of wings + And I feel the cold shiver of spiritual things!_ + + --_"Instinct and Reason" + from "The Book of Winifred Maynard."_ + + +=Benet=, William Rose. Devil's Blood. (Second Film in "Films," in "The +Burglar of the Zodiac.") + + . . . Down the path-- + _Is it but shadow?_--steals a thread of wrath, + A red bright thread. It reaches him. He reels. + _Wet! Warm!_ Wily athwart his step it steals + And stains his white court footgear, toes to heels. + +=Brooke=, Rupert. Dead Men's Love. (In his Collected Poems. 1918.) + + There was a damned successful Poet. + There was a Woman like the sun. + And they were dead. They did not know it. + They did not know their time was done. + +---- Hauntings. + + So a poor ghost, beside his misty streams, + Is haunted by strange doubts, evasive dreams. + + +=Burnet=, Dana. Ballad of the Late John Flint. (In his Poems. 1915.) + + The Bridegroom smiled a twisted smile, + "The wine is strong," he said. + The Bride she twirled her wedding ring + Nor lifted up her head; + And there were three at John Flint's board, + And one of them was dead. + + +=Campbell=, William Wilfred. The Mother. (In John W. Garvin's Canadian +Poets and Poetry.) + + I dreamed that a rose-leaf hand did cling; + Oh, you cannot bury a mother in spring! + . . . . . . . . + I nestled him soft to my throbbing breast, + And stole me back to my long, long rest. + +---- The Were-wolves. (In Stedman's Victorian Anthology.) + + Each panter in the darkness + Is a demon-haunted soul, + The shadowy, phantom were-wolves + That circle round the pole. + + +=Carman=, Bliss. The Nancy's Pride. (In his Ballads of Lost Haven.) + + Her crew lean forth by the rotting shrouds + With the Judgment in their face; + And to their mates' "God save you!" + Have never a word of grace. + +---- The Yule Guest. (In Ballads of Lost Haven.) + + But in the Yule, O Yanna, + Up from the round dim sea + And reeling dungeons of the fog, + I am come back to thee! + + +=Chalmers=, Patrick R. The Little Ghost. (In his Green Days and Blue +Days.) + + Down the long path, beset + With heaven-scented, haunting mignonette, + The gardeners say + A little grey + Ghost-lady walks! + + +=Colum=, Padraic. The Ballad of Downal Baun. (In Wild Earth and Other +Poems.) + + "O dream-taught man," said the woman-- + She stood where the willows grew, + A woman from the country + Where the cocks never crew. + + +=Couch=, Arthur Quiller-. Dolor Oogo. (In John Masefield's A Sailor's +Garland.) + + Thirteen men by Ruan Shore, + Dolor Oogo, Dolor Oogo, + Drowned men since 'eighty-four + Down in Dolor Oogo: + On the cliff against the sky, + Ailsa, wife of Malachi + That cold woman-- + Sits and knits eternally. + + +=De La Mare=, Walter. The Keys of Morning. (In his The Listeners.) + + She slanted her small bead-brown eyes + Across the empty street + And saw Death softly watching her + In the sunshine pale and sweet. + +---- The Listeners. + + But only a host of phantom listeners + That dwelt in the lone house then + Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight + To that voice from the world of men: + Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair + That goes down to the empty hall, + Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken + By the lonely Traveller's call. + +---- The Witch. + + All of these dead were stirring + Each unto each did call, + "A witch, a witch is sleeping + Under the churchyard wall." + + +=Dollard=, Father. Ballad of the Banshee. (In J. W. Garvin's Canadian +Poets and Poetry.) + + Mother of mercy! there she sat, + A woman clad in a snow-white shroud, + Streamed her hair to the damp moss-mat, + White the face on her bosom bowed! + + +=Fletcher=, John Gould. The Ghosts of an Old House. (In his Goblins and +Pagodas.) + + Yet I often wonder + If these things are really dead. + If the old trunks never open + Letting out grey flapping things at twilight. + If it is all as safe and dull + As it seems? + + +=Furlong=, Alice. The Warnings. (In Padric Gregory's Modern Anglo-Irish +Verse.) + + I was weaving by the door-post, when I heard the Death-Watch beating; + And I signed the Cross upon me, and I spoke the Name of Three. + High and fair, through cloud and air, a silver moon was fleeting, + But the night began to darken as the Death-Watch beat for me. + + +=Gibson=, Wilfrid Wilson. The Blind Rower. (In his Collected Poems. 1917.) + + Some say they saw the dead man steer-- + The dead man steer the blind man home-- + Though, when they found him dead, + His hand was cold as lead. + +---- Comrades. + + As I was marching in Flanders + A ghost kept step with me-- + Kept step with me and chuckled, + And muttered ceaselessly. + +---- The Lodging House. + + And when at last I stand outside + My garret door I hardly dare + To open it, + Lest when I fling it wide + With candle lit + And reading in my only chair + I find myself already there. + + +=Hagedorn=, Hermann. The Last Faring. (In Poems and Ballads.) + + THE FATHER + + Into the storm he drives! Full is the sail; + But the wind blows wilder and shriller! + + THE SON + + 'Tis the ghost of a Sea-King, my father, rigid and pale, + That holds so firm the tiller! + +---- The Cobbler of Glamorgan. + + He coughed, he turned; and crystal-eyed + He stared, for the bolted door stood wide, + And on the threshold, faint and grand, + He saw the awful Gray Man stand. + His flesh was a thousand snails that crept, + But his face was calm though his pulses leapt. + + +=Herford=, Oliver. Ye Knyghte-mare. (In The Bashful Earthquake.) + + Ye log burns dimme, and eke more dimme, + Loud groans each knyghtlie gueste, + As ye ghost of his grandmother, gaunt and grimme, + Sits on each knyghte hys cheste. + + +=Kilmer=, Joyce. The White Ships and the Red. (In W. S. Braithwaite's +Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1915.) + + The red ship is the Lusitania. "She goes to the bottom all in + red to join all the other dead ships, which are in white." + + +=Le Gallienne=, Richard. Ballad of the Dead Lover. (In his New Poems. +1910.) + + She took his head upon her knee + And called him love and very fair. + And with a golden comb she combed + The grave-dust from his hair. + + +=Lowell=, Amy. The Crossroads. (In her Men, Women, and Ghosts.) + + In polyphonic prose. The body buried at the crossroads + struggles for twenty years to free itself of the stake driven + through its heart and wreak vengeance on its enemy. It is + finally successful as the funeral cortege of this enemy comes + down the road. + + "He wavers like smoke in the buffeting wind. His fingers blow + out like smoke, his head ripples in the gale. Under the sign + post, in the pouring rain, he stands, and watches another + quavering figure drifting down the Wayfleet road. Then swiftly + he streams after it. . ." + + +=Marquis=, Don. Haunted. (In his Dreams and Dust.) + + Drink and forget, make merry and boast, + But the boast rings false and the jest is thin. + In the hour that I meet ye ghost to ghost, + Stripped of the flesh that ye skulk within, + Stripped to the coward soul 'ware of its sin, + Ye shall learn, ye shall learn, whether dead men hate! + + +=Masefield=, John. Cape Horn Gospel. (In his Collected Poems. 1918.) + + "I'm a-weary of them there mermaids," + Says old Bill's ghost to me, + "It ain't no place for Christians, + Below there, under sea. + For it's all blown sands and shipwrecks + And old bones eaten bare, + And them cold fishy females + With long green weeds for hair." + +---- Mother Carey. + + She lives upon an iceberg to the norred + 'N' her man is Davy Jones, + 'N' she combs the weeds upon her forred + With poor drowned sailors' bones. + + +=Maynard=, Winifred. Saint Catherine. (In The Book of Winifred Maynard.) + + . . . "Saint Catherine," in which the spotless virginity of the + saint is made ashamed by the pitiful ghosts, who whisper their + humanity to her in a dream.--_William Stanley Braithwaite._ + + +=Middleton=, Jesse Edgar. Off Heligoland. (In his Seadogs and +Men-at-arms.) + + Ghostly ships in a ghostly sea. . . + + +=Millay=, Edna St. Vincent. The Little Ghost. (In her Renascence.) + + I knew her for a little ghost + That in my garden walked; + The wall is high--higher than most-- + And the green gate was locked. + + +=Monroe=, Harriet. The Legend of Pass Christian. (In her You and I.) + + Now we, who wait one night a year + Under these branches long, + May see a flaming ship, and hear + The echo of a song. + + +=Noyes=, Alfred. The Admiral's Ghost. (In his Collected Poems. 1913.) + +---- A Song of Sherwood. + + The dead are coming back again, the years are rolled away, + In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day. + + +=Scollard=, Clinton. A Ballad of Hallowmass. (In his Ballads Patriotic and +Romantic.) + + It happed at the time of Hallowmass, when the dead may walk + abroad, + That the wraith of Ralph of the Peaceful Heart went forth from + the courts of God. + + +=Seeger=, Alan. Broceliande. (In his Poems. 1917.) + + Untroubled, untouched by the woes of this world are the + moon-marshalled hosts that invade + Broceliande. + + +=Shorter=, Dora Sigerson. All Souls' Night. (In Stedman's Victorian +Anthology.) + + . . . Deelish! Deelish! My woe forever that I could not sever + coward flesh from fear. + I called his name and the pale ghost came; but I was afraid to + meet my dear. + +=Sterling=, George. A Wine of Wizardry. (In A Wine of Wizardry and Other +Poems. 1909.) + + And, ere the tomb-thrown mutterings have ceased, + The blue-eyed vampire, sated at her feast, + Smiles bloodily against the leprous moon. + + +=Widdemer=, Margaret. The Forgotten Soul. (In her The Factories.) + + 'Twas I that stood to greet you on the churchyard pave-- + (O fire o' my heart's grief, how could you never see?) + You smiled in pleasant dreaming as you crossed my grave + And crooned a little love-song where they buried me! + +---- The House of Ghosts. + + Out from the House of Ghosts I fled + Lest I should turn and see + The child I had been lift her head + And stare aghast at me. + + +=Yeats=, William Butler. The Ballad of Father Gilligan. (In Burton +Stevenson's The Home Book of Verse.) + + How an angel obligingly took upon itself the form and + performed the duties of Father Gilligan while the father was + asleep at his post. + +---- The Host of the Air. + + Based upon a scrap of folklore in "The Celtic Twilight" and + apparently among the simplest of his poems, nothing he has + ever done shows a greater mastery of atmosphere, or a greater + metrical mastery.--_Forrest Reid._ + + He heard, while he sang and dreamed, + A piper piping away, + And never was piping so sad, + And never was piping so gay. + + + + +THE OLD BALLADS + + "_From Ghaisties, Ghoulies, and long-leggity Beasties + and Things that go Bump in the night-- + Good Lord, deliver us._" + +The ballads that follow have all been selected from The Oxford Book of +Ballads, edited by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch. Clarendon Press, Oxford, +1910. + + +Alison Gross. + + She's turned me into an ugly worm + And gar'd me toddle about the tree. + + +Clerk Saunders. + + The most notable of the ballads of the supernatural, from the + dramatic quality of its story and a certain wild pathos in its + expression. + + "Is there ony room at your head, Saunders, + Is there ony room at your feet? + Or ony room at your side, Saunders, + Where fain, fain I wad sleep?" + + +The Daemon Lover. + + And aye as she turned her round about, + Aye taller he seemed to be; + Until that the tops o' that gallant ship + Nae taller were than he. + + +King Henry. + + O he has doen him to his ha' + To make him bierly cheer, + An' in it came a griesly ghost + Steed stappin' i' the fleer. + + +The Laily Worm. + + For she has made me the laily worm, + That lies at the fit o' the tree, + And my sister Masery she's made + The machrel of the sea. + + +A Lyke-wake Dirge. + + This ae nighte, this ae nighte, + --Every nighte and alle, + Fire and sleet and candle-lighte, + And Christ receive thy saule. + + +Tam Lin. + + And pleasant is the fairy land + For those that in it dwell, + But ay at end of seven years + They pay a teind to hell; + I am sae fair and fu' of flesh + I'm fear'd 'twill be mysell. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poetry of the Supernatural, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETRY OF THE SUPERNATURAL *** + +***** This file should be named 39494.txt or 39494.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/4/9/39494/ + +Produced by David Starner, Lisa Reigel, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from images made available by the +HathiTrust Digital Library.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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