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+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
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