You May Also Like / View all maxioms
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?
All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,
All intellect, all sense, and as they please
read more
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
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.