What beck'ning ghost along the moonlight shade Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?

I look for ghosts; but none will force Their way to me; 'tis falsely said That even there was intercourse Between the living and the dead.

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.

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.

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.